The Pureblood
by PoohBear813
Summary: Hermione Granger finds herself going through some major changes in her final year at Hogwarts. Join her as she learns who she really is and who she's betrothed to...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Only the plot and few orginal characters are mine... Everything else is the property of J.K. Rowling...

I'd like to point out that I am taking the liberty of bringing possible other sides of the characters to the front so please be advised that there might be some big differences in the characters created by Rowling. Thank you- PoohBear813

**Chapter One**

Hermione Granger lay sprawled out on her stomach with a book in front of her. Her eyes fluidly scanned over the words on each page before going to the next. She wanted to be prepared for her final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and that meant lots of reading and memorizing.

With the second war being on the verge of an explosion of force, she wanted to be ready to fight along side the Order as well. She had spent many hours helping the Order in any way she could, which usually consisted of helping Mrs. Weasley with the cooking or cleaning of the Burrow (their headquarters since the death of Sirius Black), but she knew that she'd have to fight in the end. She _wanted_ to fight.

The wizarding world was as much her home as the Muggle world and she didn't want to see either world fall apart. She had spent too many hours working hard to become the accomplished witch that she was to see it go to waste by not doing what she could to help Harry defeat Voldemort.

At present, she was just about to start the final chapter of her Arithmancy book when her father's voice called up to her. "Coming," she called as she closed her book and climbed off of her bed.

When she got to the foot of the stairs, she looked around to see where her father was. "Dad?"

"In the living room, darling," he called.

"What did you want?" she questioned when she found him.

"Um, your mother and I have something important that we need to talk to you about," he told her.

Hermione sat down in the plush arm chair with her brow furrowed in curiosity. Her mother looked as if she had been crying and her father was visibly upset. "Is something wrong? Has someone… died?"

"Do we have to tell her now, Tom?" her mother asked.

"We don't have a choice, Jane," he answered, "They'll be here in a few hours."

"Who will be here in a few hours?" Hermione asked.

Her parents were silent for a moment before her father said, "Your parents."

Hermione laughed slightly and shook her head. "Funny, Dad," she said, "Come on, who's really coming?"

"This is no joke, Hermione," Mr. Granger said solemnly, "There's something you need to know."

* * *

_Rain was pouring down that night as Tom Granger sat in his living room reading. Lightening struck, followed by a loud rumble of thunder that shook the windows. He was almost finished with the last chapter in his book when a knock sounded at the door. He marked his place and set the book down as he glanced at his watch. _Now who would be calling on us at this hour,_ he thought? He then stood up and walked over to the door._

_When he opened it, he was greeted by the sight of two figures covered in dark, hooded cloaks. The shorter of the two figures was carrying something in it's arms. "Can I… help you?" he asked as he looked at the figures with a mixture of fear and curiosity._

_The young man lifted the hood of his cloak from his head, revealing a face that held fear. "Sir, my name is Pietro Zabini and this is my wife, Marjorie," he said, "we wish to speak with you about an urgent matter… may we come in?"_

_Tom eyed the man suspiciously. "I promise that we mean you no harm," the young man said, noticing the uncertainty._

_The smaller cloaked figure removed it's hood. She was a pretty, young woman with chin-length, wavy brown hair. "Please, sir, I beg you," she said, fear evident in her voice._

_Upon hearing how scared she was, Tom moved aside and opened the door wider for them. "Tom, who was at the door?"_

_Tom looked up the stairs as Pietro and his wife entered the house. "Don't worry about it, Jane," he called, "Go back to bed, love."_

"_If you please, we must speak to your wife as well."_

"_What's this all about?" Tom questioned as he shut the door._

"_It's regarding our daughter, Hermione," Pietro told him as Marjorie hugged the bundle in her arms closer to her._

_Tom heard footsteps behind him as his wife came down the stairs and stood next to him. "This is my wife, Jane," Tom told him, wrapping his arm around her waist._

_Pietro nodded. "I apologize for the late hour, Jane; I am Pietro and this is my wife, Marjorie."_

"_It's nice to meet you. Please, won't you come in and sit down?" she asked, motioning to the living room._

"_Thank you, but we can only stay for a moment," he said, glancing at the door briefly._

_Jane offered them a warm cup of tea which they kindly refused due to lack of time. Apparently, these two were in a great hurry and needed to discuss something of critical importance. "There is no time for details but we must ask you to do something for us," Pietro said._

"_We don't even know you, sir," Tom said._

_Jane placed her hand on her husband's arm as she said, "How can we help?"_

* * *

Hermione stared blankly at her parents when they had finished their story. _It can't be true,_ she thought, _it just can't be true. I'm Hermione Granger; seventh year and Head Girl at Hogwarts _School_ of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm not a Zabini… I'm _not_ a Zabini!_

"There's got to be some mistake," she said after several minutes, "I go to school with Blaise Zabini; I look nothing like him."

"Hermione, haven't you ever wondered why there are no pictures of your mother pregnant? Or why we don't have pictures from when you were born?" Mr. Granger questioned.

Her father made a very good point. She honestly couldn't recall ever seeing pictures of her mother being pregnant, nor pictures from the hospital when she was born. "But what about all of the pictures from when I was a baby? And you have my birth certificate, don't you?"

"You were not even a week old when your parents brought you to us, so yes, we have many pictures of you as a baby," her father told her, "In answer to the birth certificate question, the one we have for you is false."

"What?! No, I'm Hermione Jean Granger, born and raised in Oxfordshire to Tom and Jane Granger," Hermione argued. She couldn't believe them, had her parents gone crazy?

"Honey, as much as we wish it, and as much as we believe it to be true, you are not biologically ours," Mrs. Granger said softly, sounding on the verge of tears.

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest as she tried to make sense of everything her parents had just explained to her. Though the looks of sadness and the tone of her parents' voices told her that it was the truth, she just couldn't wrap her head around it. She felt as if she had fallen into a strange, yet horrible, dream and couldn't wake up. _But I _am_ awake,_ she thought logically. Suddenly, her blood began to boil in anger.

"You've known this all along and you never told me?" she questioned hotly, standing up and glaring at them.

Mrs. Granger looked at her pleadingly. "Darling, please, you must understand…" she began.

Hermione whipped around and glared at her. "Understand what, _Mother_?" she snapped. "That you've hidden the fact that I'm not even your daughter from me? I think I understand that one quite well, thank you."

"Hermione, your mother and I…"

"You aren't my parents," Hermione snapped, turning to face Mr. Granger.

Mrs. Granger threw her head into her hands and sobbed loudly as her husband looked at the young woman they had come to know and love as their daughter sternly and said, "Young lady, you do not speak to us like that!"

"How could you have kept something like this from me? Didn't you think this was something I should have been aware of before now?"

"We wanted to tell you, Hermione," Mr. Granger said, "We truly did, but we couldn't. It was physically impossible for us to speak of it until just before we told you."

Her mother's words about spells being cast on them suddenly popped into her mind as her father told her this. She had read of particular spells used to prevent a person from spilling information, willingly or not, so it seemed fully plausible that the Zabinis had performed such spells on them. "They cast a Secrecy Spell on you," she said after several moments.

Mr. Granger nodded. "I'm not sure exactly what it's called, but they did something to prevent us from speaking of your true identity… even to each other."

Hermione took a deep breath and sat down, doing her best to remain calm so that she could logically consider all the facts. "And I suppose my features were altered in some way?"

This time it was Mrs. Granger who responded. "Yes, they were changed a bit. Though, considering how young you were, I don't believe they were big changes."

_A Glamour Charm_, Hermione thought, _That certainly explains why I don't look anything like Blaise._ At the sudden thought of Blaise, Hermione realized that she wasn't only Blaise's sister, she was his twin.

Shaking that uncomfortable thought from her head, Hermione asked, "Did I look much different… before the Glamour Charm was placed on me?"

"We don't… we don't really know what you looked like before the… What did you call it?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Glamour Charm; it's a charm used to change ones appearance for a period of time."

"Your parents kept you so close to them that we couldn't see what you looked like. I can't really imagine them changing your looks too much, again, because you were so young," Mrs. Granger continued, wiping her tears from her eyes. "I remember seeing little tufts of black hair peaking out from the blanket you were wrapped in though."

Hermione sat silently for a few minutes processing what she had just been told. "Why did they leave me here?" she asked suddenly, realizing that a full explanation on that front hadn't been given.

"That's a question we can't answer," Mr. Granger told her, "We don't know."

"They didn't give you a reason?"

He shook his head. "They told us everything that we told you; that you were in danger and they needed someone to look after you until you were nearly of age in their world," he said. "We didn't understand what that meant and we never had the chance to ask them because they cast their spells on us and left."

"A few days later, we received a letter explaining that you were a Witch and that you would be attending a school called Hogwarts once you turned eleven. The letter also explained that the spell they had cast on us would wear off on the eve of your seventeenth birthday and that we were to tell you what we knew at that time," Mrs. Granger continued.

"But they never told you why they needed someone to look after me? What I was in danger of?"

Both Grangers shook their heads, "They said that that was information better left for them to explain when the time came."

Hermione stood up and began pacing, "Well this is just great! My whole life I've been teased, ridiculed, and utterly humiliated for being a Muggle-born and no one can tell me why I was brought here to begin with!"

"Hermione, I'm sure there's a perfectly good explan…"

"Yes, Mother I'm sure there is but unfortunately that explanation seems to be lost in the void until the time I can get it from the Zabinis," she said. _Not that I want to hear what they have to say,_ she added to herself bitterly.

"Which should be in a few hours," Mr. Granger said softly. "They're going to be here at five thirty to take… to take you home."

Hermione stood and began to walk toward the stairs. "Excuse me," she said quietly, "I need a moment to sift through all of this."

Her mind was racing with the thought of being taken away from her parents. As angry as she was at them for not telling her, she couldn't honestly blame them; they had been under a Secrecy Spell after all. Furthermore, she loved her parents dearly.

"There's one more thing we have to tell you," Mr. Granger's voice called softly just before she began climbing up the stairs, "Please, I think you'll want to sit back down for this."

Hermione reluctantly sat down and Mr. Granger continued, "The letter your mother spoke of a few moments ago also explained that we were to tell you that you're betrothed."

"Betrothed? They've arranged a marriage for me?" Hermione questioned in disbelief. "Do they think I'm incapable of choosing a husband for myself?"

"According to the letter, arranged marriages are a tradition in your fam… in your family."

Hermione scoffed, "A tradition? How completely archaic!" she raged, "This is not the 1600's… women are free to choose who they marry! How can they expect me to follow some Neanderthal tradition like that?"

"Darling, we're not happy about it either," Mr. Granger told her, "you're only seventeen after all, but perhaps we should try to be understanding of their ways?"

Hermione huffed. "Well, I suppose I could be understanding of it… providing there's a long period of time where I can get to know this… Who is it that I'm supposed to be betrothed to?"

"A boy called Draco Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes widened as she shot out of her seat, "WHAT?!" she yelled, "Oh, I do _not_ believe this! Not only do I find out that I'm the daughter of a Death Eater and the twin sister of a complete _moron_, but I find out I'm betrothed to someone who hates me? Oh this day just keeps getting better and better!"

"Now Hermione, I'm sure that Draco Malfoy isn't all that bad once you get to know him," Mrs. Granger said quietly, trying to be supportive.

Hermione ran a hand through her bushy hair and sighed. "I don't think he's completely bad," she confessed reluctantly, "though I can't honestly say he's good either. I mean, all he's ever done is torment my friends and me and… as I've said… he hates me."

"Oh I don't think he hates you dear," Mrs. Granger said comfortingly.

"I'm afraid I think he does. He's treated me like a piece of dirt since the first day we met because of my being Muggle-born."

"I'm sure the two of you could work things out."

Hermione was about to protest when suddenly something small and sparkling gold zoomed into the room and began circling her head. _What's a snitch doing _here, she thought as she reached up and attempted to catch the small object. _Oh where the bloody hell is Harry when you need him?_

Though it took several minutes, Hermione finally managed to catch the walnut sized ball, its thin silver wings flapping madly in an attempt to get away from her firm grip. With it finally settled down and its wings tucked away, she was able to examine it. From what she could tell, it was just an ordinary snitch used in Quidditch. _But it can't be ordinary,_ she thought. _Unless it escaped from a game somewhere…_

"Hermione, what _is _that?" Mr. Granger asked.

"It's called a 'snitch'. It's one of the four balls used in Quidditch," she said, "I've told you about Quidditch; remember, my friends Ginny, Ron, and Harry play for the Gryffindor team?"

"Oh, yes."

"What's it doing here?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said thoughtfully. She didn't have long to ponder as to the reason for the snitch being in a Muggle town, however for at that moment, an envelope flew in through the chimney and landed softly at her feet.

Seeing that it was, indeed, for her, Hermione quickly pocketed the golden snitch and picked up the envelope. She then opened it and found a neatly scrawled note consisting of a single word; Serpentias.

There was no signature, just that one simple word. Hermione turned the piece of parchment over and over in her hands trying to see if there was maybe something else that she might have missed. Finding nothing, she sighed and removed the snitch from her pocket and examined it again, confusion washing over her in bigger waves than she had ever felt.

"Hermione?" Mr. Granger questioned.

_What the bloody hell is going on here,_ she thought? She looked closer at the writing and realized that she recognized it. "Malfoy!" she exclaimed.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked at her in confusion. "Malfoy?"

"He sent this snitch here, I'm almost sure of it," Hermione said. "He probably expects me to open it and get expelled for doing underage magic. That is so _like him!_"

Mrs. Granger looked at her worriedly. "Surely you wouldn't get expelled," she said.

"You're right," Hermione said after a moment of thought, "I come of age tomorrow so what difference will it make?"

With Voldemort back and rising to power, Hermione had taken to carrying her wand on her at all times. If she was going to be caught by a Death Eater, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. She reached toward her back pocket but paused. _What if this is just another of Malfoy's horrible jokes,_ she thought, _maybe I shouldn't… Oh what the hell; it's only from Malfoy after all._

Without another thought, Hermione withdrew her wand from her jeans pocket and gently tapped the snitch with the tip of it and said, "Serpentias."

At first, it seemed as though nothing was going to happen, the snitch just sat there in her hand. Then, in a matter of seconds, it began to vibrate. A warm tingling feeling spread through her hand as the snitch began to heat causing her to drop it.

As it hit the floor the golden color changed to red and then burned white hot. Hermione watched the snitch as it began to glow so brightly white that she had to squint to see what was happening. Then suddenly, she let out a scream of terror as the snitch turned into a great black snake, coiled and ready to strike. The snake raised its black head and stared at them through amber eyes, its forked tongue flickering in and out of its mouth smelling them.

Mr. Granger carefully moved toward the snake with the poker from the fireplace in an attempt to remove it but it lunged dangerously at him. Mrs. Granger and Hermione both screamed and Mrs. Granger pulled her daughter close to her. The snake flicked its tongue in Hermione's direction and uncoiled itself.

Hermione's heart pounded wildly in her chest as the serpent slithered gracefully across the floor and came to a stop in front of her. She watched as it rose up and looked her right in the eyes, swaying its head slightly. Then, as if she knew the creature wouldn't hurt her, Hermione stepped away from her mother and reached for it.

The snake slithered closer to her and wrapped itself around her arm, turning so that its head was in the palm of her hand. As though hypnotized, Hermione began stroking the watery skin. The snake suddenly stretched its mouth wide and hissed loudly, vanishing in a puff of green smoke.

Hermione blinked, bringing her eyes back into focus, and looked down at her open hand. A thin band of silver glistened up at her formed into the shape of an emerald eyed, open-mouthed snake. Sitting in the snake's opened mouth, held in by four tiny fang-shaped diamonds was a small, perfect emerald. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen in her life. Slowly, she looked back at her parents.

She swallowed loudly and whispered, "Oh my."

"Oh, Hermione, it's lovely," Mrs. Granger said shakily, coming up next to her daughter.

"Yes, it is but I won't wear it; not yet."

"Hermione…" her mother began.

Hermione turned and faced her mother. "I've dreamed of getting married since I was eight years old," she said, "Part of that dream consists of the man I'm marrying putting the engagement ring on my finger."

Mrs. Granger smiled tenderly, "What girl wouldn't want that?" she said, "I'm sure your par… parents will understand."

"I hope so…" Hermione said, looking at the clock. She then bolted toward the stairs and called, "Excuse me."

"Of course dear," Mrs. Granger called back.

Hermione quickly climbed the stairs and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door and leaning back against it. For the first time since she had heard the news of who she was, she allowed the hot tears she had been holding back to fall freely. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, crying into them. It was all she could do to keep herself from completely losing her mind.

She felt betrayed in some ways because her parents had kept such important information from her for so long, however unwillingly. Betrayed because the people who had created her, who had supposedly loved her, had abandoned her. She also felt nervous about the fact that she was going to be marrying someone who had shown an intense hatred for her during the years they had attended Hogwarts.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and opened her fist. The tiny ring shimmered back at her as her honey brown eyes carefully looked it over. The band was quite intriguing; it was as if the snake was appearing to coil itself around the wearer's finger. It looked a bit big for her slim fingers, though it was certainly beautifully crafted… _Most likely by magic_… every detail made to perfection.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed writing etched into the inside of the band. Curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione walked over to her nightstand and turned on the lamp. Holding the ring close to her face, she read the neatly scrawled inscription. To my betrothed, Draco Malfoy

"To my betrothed, Draco Malfoy," She repeated out loud, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. She was truly impressed. _I wonder if he knows who he's betrothed to,_ she thought as she set the ring on her nightstand, _Of course he does you twit! He sent you the bloody snitch and note._

Hermione silently wondered what Draco thought about their arranged marriage. Did he have the same concerns that she did? Would he be able to set aside their differences and accept her into his life? Would she be able to forgive him for the hurtful things he'd said and done to her over the years? If they refused to accept this betrothal, would they be forced to marry?

She wasn't completely sure of what was going to happen in the next twenty-four hours, but she was willing to at least speak to the Zabinis and make her decision from there. At this point, she wasn't ready to either accept or deny anything. _Although, being the daughter of a Death Eater isn't exactly comforting,_ she thought,_ and a betrothal to Malfoy?_

Her mind reeled with all of the information she had been given tonight. In some ways, she felt that her parents actually _wanted_ to be rid of her with the way they were talking about how she should be understanding of her biological parents' ways. However, she knew by the sad looks on their faces that they didn't want to let her go. Even knowing that didn't stop her from being angry with them for keeping such a big secret from her though.

_Hermione, it isn't their fault,_ she scolded herself, _the Zabinis put a spell on them so that they couldn't say anything about it!_

She glanced over at the ring on her nightstand and flung herself down onto her bed with a growl of frustration. _What kind of sick, twisted world am I living in,_ she questioned, _I'm the daughter of a Death Eater and the future wife of a ferret. Ugh! _That's_ certainly not going to happen! I won't marry him! But… you've liked him for so long. Maybe he's really not as bad as he's acting… Oh, who am I kidding; of course he's as bad as he's acting! But…_

As she was having her internal debate, an owl appeared at her window carrying a letter in its beak. Hermione walked over to the window and took the letter from the owl, which flew off quickly, and looked at the envelope. Her name was written on it in a very official way so she could only assume that it was from the Ministry of Magic.

Knowing exactly what it might say, she opened it lazily and read the neatly written note.

Dear Miss Granger,

The Ministry has received intelligence that a Password Charm was performed at approximately 2:55 this afternoon in the presence of Muggles. This is a direct violation of the Statue of Secrecy laws, as well as the laws for Underage Restrictions, set up by the Ministry of Magic. Please be advised that any further use of Underage Magic will result in immediate expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hoping you are well,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Ministry of Magic

Improper Use of Magic Department

Hermione folded the letter back up and placed it back inside its envelope. She had been expecting a letter like this. Harry had told her about the time he had received one before their second year so she had known that she was bound to get one after magically opening that snitch. Though, quite honestly, she didn't care.

Ever since the Ministry had treated Harry in such a horrible manner, she couldn't find it in herself to care what they thought. She would be turning seventeen the very next day so it wasn't like she would be doing anymore magic until then anyway. She had willingly allowed her curiosity to get the better of her in regards to the snitch and that was all there was to it.

With a deep sigh, Hermione walked over to the foot of her bed and threw open her school trunk. At the bottom of the trunk were a few broken quills and empty ink bottles which she quickly gathered up and discarded in her waste basket. She then walked over to her closet and began emptying it of its contents.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I only own the plot and the few orginial characters. Everything else is credited to J. K. Rowling...

**Chapter Two**

Hermione jumped slightly when a loud tapping sounded in the quiet room. She stood up from her spot on the floor and looked toward her bedroom window. Sitting comfortably on the outside window sill was a large, beautiful Boreal owl that she didn't recognize.

She stared at the owl briefly, noticing that there was something tied to its leg. Curious as to who had sent the owl, she quickly walked over to the window and threw it open. The owl swooped into the room silently and perched itself on Hermione's desk. It then obediently held its leg out for her and waited.

Hermione moved over to the owl and untied the envelope that was attached to its leg. Sure enough, written in beautiful slanted cursive was her name. _I wonder who it's from,_ she thought, opening the envelope and pulling out the enclosed piece of parchment.

Dearest Hermione,

By now, the Grangers will have told you of your true identity and your betrothal to Draco. I imagine that these pieces of news came as quite a shock to you and that there may be questions you would like the answers to. I assure you that any questions will be answered in due time but for now, correspondence must be kept brief.

I can't even begin to express how thrilled your father and I are that you're going to be back with us after so many long years apart. We will be arriving shortly with your brother, Blaise, to take you home. I'm sure the two of you will get along beautifully. He is very much so looking forward to finally meeting you and spending time with you.

We can't wait to see you.

Much Love,

Your Mother

Hermione stared at the last line for several minutes. _Your Mother._ Her eyes narrowed as the weight of those words seemed to come down on her like a wave in the ocean. There was no way she was going to stand for this. She had a mother, and a father, that she loved dearly and she wasn't going to be taken from them!

Also, the fact that her biological parents, at least her biological father, was a Death Eater didn't sit well with her. Voldemort's power and hold on the wizarding community had strengthened but he had yet to make a move on the Ministry. She was certain that Mr. Zabini would be a part of his plot to take over the Ministry and she didn't want to be a part of a family that belonged to the dark side. _I'm not going! There's no way I'm going to live with a bunch of… of… Death Eaters!_

With a small grunt of anger, Hermione crumpled the letter in her hand and tossed it onto her desk. She padded across the floor and opened her door, stepping out into the hallway. As she made her way down the hall to the stairs, she heard the sound of crying coming from her father's office.

Her feet quietly carried her to the closed door as instinct told her that it was her mother doing the crying. However, as she opened the door and poked her head into the room, her heart broke at the sight that lay before her. Her father was sitting behind his desk with his head in his hands, sobbing.

Hermione had never seen her father cry before. He had always been so scientific, so rational about things that she had never thought crying would be an option for him. She wanted to be there for him in the way he had always been there for her; wanted to comfort him in some way.

With all the emotional strength she could muster, she gently pushed the door open further and entered the familiar room. As she quietly padded over to him, Mr. Granger looked up at the young woman as she came toward him. Fresh tears fell from his eyes as he watched her.

"Daddy," she whispered, sitting on his lap the way she used to do when she woke from a nightmare.

He remembered the way she would tiptoe to his office and climb into his lap causing all the stress from his day to vanish as his little girl slept, curled in his arms. "My little girl," he whispered back, tears falling from his tired eyes with each word.

He touched the tip of her nose with his finger as he said, "That's what you are; my little girl and you always will be. Nothing will ever take that away; no distance… no time… no name change… You are _my_ little girl."

Hermione felt the warm, wet tears from his face seeping into her shirt, mixing with her own as she looked around the small, dark office. The mantle bore pictures of their family, happy and loving. There was a section of the room that proudly displayed her grade cards and awards from school while another section was splashed with the many vividly colored drawings she had done over the past sixteen years. Handprints walked around the room, each one bigger than the previous, representing her sixteen years of life.

She stood from her father's lap while he wiped his remaining tears away. She walked along the wall, touching each handprint, marveling in the love that surrounded her. Turning back to her father's desk she saw her mother's petite form wrapped in her father's arms; he now doing the comforting.

Hermione made a mental note of how well they seemed to fit together, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. But even then, there seemed to be something that was missing between them… her. She took a small step toward them and suddenly, like a moth to the flame, she was drawn into the familiar embrace; each of them soaking up that tender moment.

"I'm not going," Hermione said softly, pulling away from her parents. "It's like Dad said, I'm yours; not theirs! They have no right to me… none!"

Her mother turned, dabbing a tissue at the corner of her eyes as she took a deep breath. Hermione knew this to be a sign of a long, civilized conversation and she would not have any part in it. "No!" she cried, quickly pacing around the office. "How dare they think they can just swoop in here and take me away like… like some, some… owl! Well, I'm just not going… I'm not… So there!"

"Hermione, sweetheart, there's no option but for you to go. We promised them," her mother explained quietly, her voice full of the tears she had already shed, and those she hadn't.

"You promised them… You! Not me! I didn't promise them anything!" Hermione stated.

Her father sniffed and nodded as he said, "You're right, you didn't promise… but you're not an adult yet which is why you have no choice… And neither do your mother and I."

Hermione glared at them, anger welling up inside her. "So you're just going to let them take me? Just like that?" she asked tearfully.

Mrs. Granger grabbed her daughter who stood stiff, refusing to reciprocate the warmth. "Now you listen here, young lady… if it weren't for the fact that they would stop at nothing short of killing us in front of you and modifying your memory to get you away, we'd fight… we'd fight to the ends of the earth for you and don't you dare think we wouldn't."

Hermione rarely saw her mother angry, but this was one of those times and she knew that her mother was right. Sinking into the chair that sat next to the one large window, Hermione began to cry once more. She felt her mother's warm, loving arms wrap around her and simply hold her, allowing her to cry for as long as she needed.

Suddenly, an idea sprung to her mind. _Tomorrow!_ Hermione stood again and paced the floor, noticing the thread-bare rug with its familiar pattern etched in where she would pace as she talked things over with her parents. "I'll be of age tomorrow… I can choose! They can't keep me there… granted, I'll look different without the Glamour Charm, and Draco will undoubtedly be uncomfortable coming here to visit but I'm sure he'll get over it… that is, if we decide to go through with this engagement, which I doubt we will…"

Hermione rambled on and on until her father's hands wrapped around her shoulders, stopping her mid-ramble. "No, Hermione," he said simply. "You are a Zabini, and with that comes great responsibility. We're counting on you to visit as much as you can, but we promised we'd do nothing to encourage you to return."

"But that doesn't mean they'll be able to make us stop loving you," Mrs. Granger added. "You're our little girl… but you're their daughter."

There was no way out of the arrangement. That somber realization hit Hermione like a Stunning Spell. "Well, I guess I'd better finish packing," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

With one final, long hug, Hermione Granger left her father's office for the last time, armed with the knowledge that she was loved deeply by her Muggle parents and grateful to the Mother and Father she hadn't met yet for giving her to such wonderful people to raise.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was looking around her room which now stood empty, except for her furniture. She had already taken her trunk, and everything else she needed, downstairs and was now just taking a few moments to remember the life she had always known. As her eyes scanned her desk she noticed that the owl that had delivered her biological mother's letter was still perched on top of it, watching her.

Carefully, she walked over to it and reached her hand out. The bird hooted softly and stretched its head to meet her fingers. Hermione smiled tenderly at the creature as she gently petted its soft feathers. "You're very beautiful," she said quietly, "Do you have a name, I wonder?"

As if the owl had understood her, it extended its leg. A small silver band wrapped around the elegant leg caught Hermione's attention. She leaned down and saw the engraved letters. It was the same slanted cursive that her mother's letter had been in. For you, Love, Your Parents.

Hermione was in shock, yet again, as she re-read the words. This gorgeous bird was for her? _No doubt it's a ploy to make me like them, or something,_ she thought. "Well, I guess if you're mine; that means I have to name you," she said to the owl, "Let's see; you're a girl… how about Callidora, meaning 'gift of beauty'."

The owl hooted affectionately in response. "Yes, I think that suits you beautifully." Hermione said with a smile.

Knowing that she would eventually have to tell her two best friends, Harry and Ron, what was going on, she sat down at her desk and pulled some spare parchment out of the drawer along with a quill and ink pot. She then set herself to writing as detailed a letter as she could in the remaining time she had.

_Dear Ron and Harry,_

_I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to respond to your letters. Things here are well, considering the circumstances. I'm not certain that I'll be able to meet you all in Diagon Alley tomorrow, though I'll certainly try. Now, I have some life altering news for you that you'll probably want to be seated for. There is no easy way to put this so, here it goes…_

_Earlier this afternoon I found out that I'm the twin sister of Blaise Zabini. Yes, I'm afraid you've read that correctly. I'm Hermione Jean Zabini (boy does that sound strange). The Zabinis brought me to my parents when I was just a few days old, asking them to care for me until tonight. (I'm not sure exactly why they brought me to my parents, though when I find out I'll let you know.)_

_This news was less shocking than the bit of news I'm about to tell you. Apart from being Blaise's twin sister (that will take some getting used to, for sure, although I'm not certain I want to get used to it), I'm to be married to Draco Malfoy. I can't imagine what possessed the Zabini's to arrange a marriage between Malfoy and me but I can't see a way out of it at this time. However, perhaps, given time, it won't be so bad… though I'm really not agreeing with this utterly archaic practice. I'm going to speak with the Zabinis about this before agreeing to anything._

_The Zabinis will be here any moment to take me to my new home. Please send your responses back to me with Callidora (my new owl given to me by the Zabinis). Ron, tell your family hello for me and that I miss them. Harry, I hope all was well for the few weeks that you had to stay at the Dursley's and that the Burrow finds you well._

_Love to you both,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Perhaps living with the Zabini's won't be so bad. I could probably find out loads about Voldemort's plans… That would help the Order significantly._

Just then, a muffled call came from down the stairs. "I'll be right there," Hermione called. She then quickly folded the letter and stuffed it into the envelope. After sealing it, she wrote the address onto it and stuffed it into her back pocket. There wasn't any time for her to send the letter just then so it would have to wait.

Hermione took one final look around the room and sighed. _Well I guess this is it,_ she thought as a tear escaped her eye. With a deep sigh, she held out her arm for her owl. "Come on Callidora, it's time to go… home," she said quietly.

Callidora spread her wings and flew, not directly to Hermione, but swooped over to the nightstand and scooped up the glistening ring then across the room to Hermione's outstretched arm. The weight on her arm was something Hermione knew she'd have to get used to, being the new owner of a lovely owl. She gently petted the bird's soft feathers as she begrudgingly stuffed the ring into her pocket and made her way out of her childhood room.

Hermione quietly headed down the stairs into the living room. Because of her new found family's Wizarding status, she assumed they wouldn't be traveling by floo powder, but she couldn't be certain. _Considering they're purebloods, they'll probably not want to get soot all over their clothes,_ she thought bitterly as she took the last few steps into the living room.

Mrs. Granger was sitting on the couch, nervously wringing her hands and glancing at the clock on the mantle. "Oh there you are dear! They'll be here any minute," she exclaimed. She then saw the large owl sitting on her daughter's arm, "My goodness where did that come from?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Zabini sent it to me," Hermione responded quietly and emotionlessly, "It's an early birthday present I suppose."

"Oh, I see… It's very pretty."

"I've named her Callidora," Hermione told her, trying hard not to think about what was coming.

Mrs. Granger blew her nose on her handkerchief and asked, "Are you nervous?"

Hermione nodded. Though she wasn't nervous for the reasons her mother might have thought. She didn't like the idea of being in the company of Death Eaters, much less living with them, but she was confident in her magical ability that, if needed, she would be able to defend herself excellently.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Mrs. Granger said with a sad smile. "Oh I do hope your parents are pleased with how we've raised you. You're a fine young woman, Hermione Gra… Hermione Zabini."

_Hermione Zabini,_ Hermione thought, _it sounds so strange to hear that last name attached to my first. It sounds so wrong._

"Do you have everything?" her mother asked tearfully.

Hermione nodded, unable to bring herself to speak.

A knock then sounded at the front door. Hermione stiffened at the sound and bit down on the inside corner of her mouth to keep herself from bursting into more tears. Mrs. Granger, however, allowed fresh tears to fill her eyes as she stood on shaky legs and made her way to the door. "Pietro, Marjorie… What a pleasure to see you again," Mr. Granger was saying.

Hermione noticed that her father's voice sounded shaky, and not at all pleased as he spoke. "Please, come in."

"Tom, Jane, it is lovely to see you both," said a smooth male voice.

Hermione tiptoed over to the entrance of the living room and peeked around the corner. Three figures dressed in traveling cloaks had just entered the house and were standing with their backs to her. "This is our son, Blaise," Mr. Zabini said, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tall figure on his left.

"Oh, yes, we've heard about you, Blaise," Mr. Granger said, shaking his hand politely. "Handsome lad."

"Thank you, sir," Blaise said quietly. Hermione thought he sounded shy and a bit embarrassed.

Hermione watched as he turned his head slightly, looking at his father as he began to speak. "Is Hermione ready?" Mr. Zabini questioned.

Mr. Granger looked to his wife. "Ahem, um… Yes, she's just in here," she said meekly.

Noticing that the Grangers were leading them into the living room, Hermione quickly backed away from the entry and walked over to stand near the fireplace. "Hermione, your… your family's here," Mrs. Granger said as they entered the room.

Hermione turned her attention from the fire in the fireplace to the five people walking toward her, particularly the ones that she was to call "family". The two elder Zabinis beamed at her. Hermione stood straight and nearly stone-faced as she regarded each Zabini in turn.

Mrs. Zabini was a thin, fairly average height woman, standing at approximately five feet six inches, with wavy brown hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her beautiful face was lit up with an excitement that made her chocolate brown eyes sparkle brightly. She seemed to be a kind woman but Hermione knew that a book couldn't be judged by its cover; only time would tell if she was really as kind as she looked.

Mr. Zabini was standing next to his wife and was as dark as she was fair. His olive colored skin matched nicely with his deep green eyes and jet black hair, which was slicked back majestically, in Hermione's opinion. _Just like Lucius Malfoy,_ Hermione thought with a mental grimace. As she looked him over with her sharp eyes, she was quite surprised to find that he too was smiling, though not as brightly as his wife. _He's probably putting on an act for my parents so that they can't tell what horrible people they are,_ she concluded.

At last, Hermione turned to her twin brother.

Blaise was standing behind their mother, his head clearly visible over hers due to his height looking quite uncomfortable. Hermione quickly noticed that he wasn't looking at her as their parents were; instead, he was staring fixedly at the hearth of the fireplace behind her. _Should've known he wouldn't want to be here,_ Hermione thought angrily, _Muggle hater that he is… but, he doesn't seem angry; he seems… sad._

Hermione chewed on her lip nervously as she continued to look at him. Then suddenly, feeling her eyes on him, Blaise looked up and met her gaze. She had been right in her assumption that he looked sad; she could now see it in his brilliant blue eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up in an attempt at a smile but it quickly faded as Hermione turned her attention back to her biological parents.

Mrs. Zabini walked forward and pulled her "long-lost" daughter into a tight hug. This action caused Callidora to leave her perch on Hermione's arm to find another resting place for the time being. "Oh my darling Hermione, I've missed you so much," Mrs. Zabini practically sang.

Hermione did not return the hug, but she didn't pull out of it either as she felt this would be rude. Mrs. Zabini loosened her hold and grasped Hermione's shoulders, holding her at arms length so as to get a better look at her. "My, you've grown up beautifully," she said tearfully. She then turned to her husband and said, "Oh, Pietro, look at how beautiful our little girl is."

Hermione tensed slightly at those words and her eyes cut to where her parents were standing, looking just as tense and sad as Hermione felt. "Marjorie, let her breathe," Mr. Zabini said kindly, "Do not forget that she has only really just met us and I am certain that she is overwhelmed with everything."

_Certainly got that right,_ Hermione thought, gently pulling out of her mother's arms.

Mr. Zabini looked at Mr. and Mrs. Granger and said, "Might we have a moment alone with our daughter before we depart?"

Mr. Granger nodded and placed his arm around his tearful wife. "Of… of course," he said, gently ushering Mrs. Granger out of the room, "We'll just be in the kitchen."

Mr. Zabini gave Hermione an expectant look as he gestured toward the couch. "I imagine this has all come as quite a shock to you, dear one," he said in a pleasant sort of voice that Hermione wasn't used to hearing from him.

"I'd say that's a bit of an understatement, Mr. Zabini," Hermione said with forced politeness as she moved past him and sat down in the squashy arm chair, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from using pet names for me, we hardly know each other."

Mr. Zabini inclined his head as he said, "Of course, forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Hermione questioned, "Forgive you for what exactly, Mr. Zabini? Forgive you for trying to kill my friends? Forgive you for abandoning me when I was just a few days old? Or maybe I should forgive you for waltzing in here after nearly seventeen years and taking me away from the only family I've ever known? Tell me, Mr. Zabini, which is it?"

"Hermione, I understand that you are angry but…"

"You're damn right I'm angry," Hermione interrupted angrily, "I've gone my entire life believing that I'm one person, and then I suddenly find out that I'm someone completely different, and betrothed to boot, and then you lot come here and want to take me away from my family; I believe I have a right to be angry!"

Mrs. Zabini cleared her throat nervously and glanced at her husband as she spoke, "Of course you have a right to be angry," she said softly, "I'd rather be worried if you weren't, but please, you must understand that we did what we had to those long years ago out of love."

"Love? You call leaving a child in the care of strangers and then coming back seventeen years later as if nothing has happened 'love'?"

"Enough," Mr. Zabini said, "this is not the place or time for this discussion."

Hermione stood, facing him and crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to refrain from pulling her wand from her pocket. "Well, I'm not going anywhere until I get some sort of explanation as to why you left me here to begin with."

"All things will be explained in due time but we will not discuss this here," Mr. Zabini said sternly, "this place is not safe."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in challenge as she said, "If you're thinking my parents are going to rat you out…"

"It has nothing to do with the Grangers," Mr. Zabini whispered harshly, "however, were they to know our reasons for leaving you with them, they would surely be in danger."

At these words, Hermione quieted and sat back down. She didn't want any harm to come to her parents so she dropped the topic with a, "But you will tell me?"

"I swear to you that everything will be revealed."

She nodded. "Then perhaps you could tell me why you've betrothed me to Draco Malfoy?"

"Arranged marriages are a tradition in the Zabini family," Mr. Zabini said simply with small smile, "and quite a good match we made for you if I do say so myself."

Sitting back grumpily, Hermione muttered, "Yes, I'm sure it's rather convenient; but really, Draco Malfoy? Do you really think he'd be willing to marry a Muggle-born like me?"

"You are of pure blood," Mr. Zabini admonished.

"Be that as it may, surely you've heard of our distaste for one another."

Marjorie Zabini shook her head and turned to her son. "Blaise, what is she talking about?"

Blaise looked up from staring at the floor as he said, "They despise each other, Mum. You know how the Malfoys are when it comes to Muggles."

"Yes, well that will change; I'm sure, when they know the full truth," their mother said.

Hermione sighed. "Right, because blood status is all that matters," she muttered under her breath.

"He's really a delightful young man," Mrs. Zabini was now saying, "I'm sure he'll be a wonderful husband for you."

"Lucius sent me an owl before we left telling me that Draco had sent you your engagement ring…"

"Oh, do let's see it!" Mrs. Zabini said excitedly, interrupting her husband.

Hermione groaned inwardly but she stuffed her hand into her pocket and pulled the tiny ring out, holding it out for them to see it.

Mrs. Zabini gasped, "Oh Hermione, it's beautiful. Come, come, put it on."

Hermione shook her head, "No," she said quietly.

"Don't be ridiculous, put it on," Mr. Zabini said somewhat sternly.

Blaise cleared his throat when he saw that Hermione was dangerously close to whipping out her wand and hexing them into oblivion at their father's sternness. "Mum, Dad, perhaps we should consider the fact that Hermione's only just found out about all of this a few hours ago," he suggested, "I'm sure it must be difficult learning you belong to a family you didn't know you belonged to and finding out you're betrothed on top of that to someone you hate. Shouldn't we allow her some time to adjust?"

Mr. Zabini thought for a moment and then nodded, saying, "Yes, I think that would probably be wise."

"I'm sure that it will take some time for both of them to get used to being betrothed to someone they hate," Blaise added as an afterthought.

Hermione gazed at her brother silently for a moment before saying, "I don't hate him, Blaise… he hates me. That's not why I'm refusing to put the ring on though."

"Then what _is_ the reason?" Mrs. Zabini asked.

Hermione was quiet for a moment, debating on whether or not she should say anything, but then she said, "Ever since I was eight, I've had a very clear idea of what I want in life; especially regarding marriage," Hermione explained, "I want to marry for love, not convenience. I want to fall in love and have my future husband be in love with me, I want him to put the ring on my finger himself. If you really want Draco and I to marry, please allow us to do things on our own terms, and if we don't wish to be married, please accept that."

Mrs. Zabini beamed. "Well I can certainly understand that," she said, "and I don't think that is too much to ask of us. What do you think Pietro?"

"I think that is a reasonable request, though I do not think Draco will disagree with the betrothal. He is an honorable lad and knows what is expected of him…"

"Mr. Zabini, Draco is perfectly capable of making his own choices, and I'll thank you to not speak at me as though you've raised me," Hermione said angrily, "You left me here to be raised by the Grangers; _they_ are my parents and they've raised me with certain morals that I will not just give up because I've suddenly found out that I'm not really their daughter."

"We should be going," Mr. Zabini said, looking at his watch and ignoring Hermione's statement. "We have much to do. I will just floo your things to the Mansion and then we shall set off."

Mr. Zabini and Blaise maneuvered Hermione's belongings into the small fireplace and then Mr. Zabini pulled a little pouch from inside his robes. He opened the pouch and threw a pinch of green powder into the fireplace and said, "Zabini Mansion."

Seconds later, Hermione's things had vanished in bright green flame. Mr. Zabini held his arm out for his wife and motioned for their children to follow. Mr. and Mrs. Granger met them at the door, tears filling their eyes.

"Thank you for looking after Hermione," Mrs. Zabini said, grasping one of Mrs. Granger's hands, "It means more to us than you'll ever know."

"Yes," Mr. Zabini agreed, "Please, if there is ever anything that we can do to return this large act of generosity do not hesitate to call on us."

The Grangers nodded. "It was our pleasure," Mr. Granger said.

Mrs. Granger pulled Hermione into a tight hug and said, "Now you be a good girl and show them what a fine young lady you are."

"I will, Mum," Hermione replied.

Mr. Granger ran his hand over the back of Hermione's head. "Oh we're going to miss you, little girl."

"I'll miss you too. I'll write all the time and I'll come to visit so much that you'll get sick of seeing me," Hermione told them with a sniffle.

"We will never get sick of seeing you," Mrs. Granger said sternly, placing her hands on Hermione's cheeks.

"Remember all that we've taught you and if there's anything you need…"

Hermione gave her father a sad smile. "I won't hesitate to ask," she said.

"There's my girl," he said, touching her cheek lovingly.

Hermione gave him a huge hug, not wanting to let go, and then made her way out into the warm evening air. As she reached the edge of the driveway, she paused and looked back at her parents. They were both crying, their arms wrapped around each other as if holding on for dear life. Hermione allowed the tears she had been trying to hold back to fall freely as she ran back to them and hugged them tightly.

"I don't want to go!" she cried softly, "Please, please don't make me."

Mrs. Granger petted the back of Hermione's head soothingly and sobbed as she said, "Hermione, we talked about this. You have to go but they can't stop you from visiting us."

Once again, Hermione realized that there was no way out of going with the Zabinis. "All right," she said reluctantly while wiping her tears away, "I'll come see you soon."

Mr. Granger kissed his daughter on the head and touched the tip of her nose with his finger. "Now go on, love," he said, "You shouldn't keep them waiting."

Hermione gave them one last hug and walked back out to the Zabinis. As they walked down the street, Hermione kept looking back at her childhood home. Memories of birthday parties, Christmas parties, and all sorts of other family functions filled her mind. There were so many happy times that she had had in that house and she truly wished there was someway for her to remain there; to build more memories.

Just then she felt someone's arm wrap around her shoulders and was quite surprised when she turned her head and found herself looking into a pair of blue eyes. "Dad's job allows him to set up Apparation points practically wherever he wants," Blaise told her quietly, "you'll be able to visit as often as you like."

Hermione sniffled as she nodded and said, "Thank you."

"I… I know this might not be any sort of consolation to you," Blaise began nervously, "but I'm really glad that you'll be with us after so long. I've always wanted a sister."

Hermione gave him a small smile and allowed him to keep his arm around her as they continued to walk. Blaise gently squeezed her shoulder as she continued to quietly cry. He wanted to comfort her in some way but he honestly wasn't quite sure of how to go about it so instead he just walked beside her silently.

She wasn't quite certain as to why, but she felt drawn to Blaise in a way that she couldn't explain. She knew that he'd been utterly cruel to her and her friends, but something was telling her that it had all been an act and that he didn't mean a bit of it. She could sense the kindness that he exuded and that was comforting to her. _Maybe I'll have someone to confide in while I'm living at Zabini Mansion,_ she thought.

"There is an Apparation point set up just inside this patch of trees," Mr. Zabini said a few moments later, "We shall be doing side-along apparition this evening since neither of you is of age or has an Apparating license; Hermione, with me, Blaise with your mother."

He held out his hand for Hermione, who took it reluctantly, and smiled reassuringly at her. "Hold on," he said, and just as she tightened her grip, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and few original characters...

**Chapter Three**

Hermione's eyes were shut tight during the short trip to her new home. She had never Apparated before and, quite honestly, she'd be perfectly happy if she never had to do it again; it was extremely painful. She felt as if her whole body was being squeezed through a hole the size of a pinhead.

Finally, after what was a much shorter trip than she felt, her feet touched solid ground. "All right Hermione?" her father asked, noticing that her eyes were still shut tight.

The young witch opened her eyes and looked up at her father. "Yes," she replied a bit shakily.

"Apparation is a bit of a rough way to travel, but it gets easier the more you do it," her father assured her with a light squeeze of her hand.

Hermione nodded slightly and let go of his hand. "I'm sure."

Blaise walked over to her as their father said, "Well, shall we head in? Please wipe your feet before going in, Blaise you always seem to forget that."

"Dad's a bit of a… what do the Muggles call it… neat freak?" Blaise whispered to Hermione.

Hermione couldn't help giggling softly as turned to face her twin brother. She was a bit shocked to see how close he was standing to her and jumped a bit. He had been so close, in fact, that she could see small flecks of black in his blue eyes. "Um… yes, that's right," she said after a few moments.

Mrs. Zabini walked over to her and smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Hermione," she said warmly.

Hermione smiled nervously, feeling the warmth of 'home', and turned to face her mother. It was then that she realized that they were standing outside a large brick mansion. Her eyes widened in awe as she took in the grand sight before her. Never in her life had she seen something so beautiful.

The mansion seemed to be about four stories tall and about four times as long. Two large, white pillars stood on the front porch supporting an awning that was about the length of a decent sized pool. Just beyond the two pillars stood the front door, tall and made of cherry wood. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Come, I'm sure you'll want to get settled a bit before dinner," their mother said, guiding them to the front door.

As they stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open and a little house elf came running out to greet them. "Sir and Mrs.! Oh Gripa was so worried about you, she was, and young Master too!" the tiny elf squeaked as she snapped her fingers, causing their traveling cloaks to disappear.

"There was no need for worry Gripa," Mr. Zabini said, "Our trip was a safe one."

"Yes, Sir," Gripa said, turning to Hermione and stopping in her tracks, "Oh Miss, it has been so very long! Gripa welcomes you home, Miss!"

Hermione smiled kindly at the large eyed elf. "Thank you Gripa, that's very kind of you," she said.

Gripa's eyes began to well up with tears as a bright smile spread across her ugly face. "Gripa, have Hermione's things been taken to her room?"

"Yes, Mrs. Gripa took them up as soon as they come."

"Excellent," Mrs. Zabini said, "Please see to it that Xenia puts Hermione's things away properly and then see to dinner."

"Oh, no, really," Hermione said quickly, "I'd much rather take care of unpacking myself. I mean, I've grown up doing things myself so…"

"Oh, Miss, it is no trouble," Gripa said, her large ears wiggling with excitement, "Gripa will see that it gets done."

And with a loud pop, Gripa disappeared before Hermione could protest again.

Hermione turned to Blaise and whispered, "I didn't know you had a house elf, though I suppose I shouldn't be shocked."

"_We_ have a house elf… and we treat her very well so don't go trying to free her," Blaise whispered back, a slight edge to his voice.

"How did you know about S.P.E.W?"

Blaise chuckled. "Everyone at school knows about your efforts to free house elves."

Hermione's brow furrowed in anger as she said, "It's a very good cause! I mean, honestly, would _you_ want to be the servant of a rich family… a slave as it were?"

"We don't treat our house hold servants that way! We treat them like family!"

"No matter if you treat them well, I'm sure they'd much rather be free…"

"Hermione, just let it go and enjoy your new life," Blaise interrupted, "besides, Gripa would be very upset if you even mentioned the idea of freeing her."

Suddenly, Hermione realized that she had forgotten Callidora. "Oh my! I've left Callidora at my parents!" she exclaimed, "What a wonderful pet owner I've turned out to be!"

Mrs. Zabini wrapped her arm around Hermione's thin shoulders. "There's nothing to worry about; she knows where to go," she told her daughter softly as they stepped into the mansion.

Hermione's eyes grew large as she looked around the spacious foyer. It was a very tall room that spanned the height of the mansion with four grand pillars lining either side. A long, carpeted staircase stood at the back of the foyer that branched off into two sections, one going left, and one going right.

A very surprising sense of home washed over Hermione as she took in the soft, deep green runner that ran from the front door all the way to the staircase. The high walls were a warm cream color and scattered with several gigantic pictures. Each of the framed occupants, Hermione noticed, was looking her way.

To be perfectly honest, Hermione was quite surprised at how warm and welcoming the mansion seemed to be. She had thought that the Zabinis lived in a sort of castle with a large dungeon or something of the sort. She knew it was childish to have thought that, but knowing what sort of people they consorted with it really wasn't too far fetched of an idea.

Blaise smiled at his sister and gently grabbed her hand. "Come on, I'll show you to your room," he said, pulling her toward the staircase.

"Be dressed and down for dinner in an hour you two," Mrs. Zabini called after them, "Hermione, your evening gown is hanging in the closet."

Hermione looked curiously at Blaise as they came to the landing and turned left. "Evening gown? We're required to dress formally for dinner?"

"Well, not usually," Blaise said, "but tonight is a sort of special night."

"Is it because I'm here?"

"Well, sort of," he replied a bit sheepishly, "Mum invited the Malfoys for dinner as sort of a 'welcome home' for you. Didn't she tell you that in her letter?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh what a great day this really has turned out to be," she said, "Not only do I find out that I'm a Zabini, betrothed to Malfoy, but I have to deal with the ever so affectionate ferret boy on my first night here? Lovely."

Blaise led her up another flight of stairs, laughing heartily. "That was a good one," he said, "You know, I heard about Professor Moody doing that, but I never actually saw it, did you?"

"Sadly, no, but the picture I have in my head from the story Harry told me is quite lovely," Hermione confessed.

Blaise looked at her with a smirk playing at his lips. "I thought you said you didn't hate him," he said.

Hermione blushed. "I don't," she confirmed, "but it's become a nasty habit to insult him; I mean, my best friends are his enemies… and it's not exactly easy to just give up insulting someone when that's all they've done to me for the past six years."

"Good point."

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, it must be weird for you, finding out you have a twin sister, huh?"

"Well, honestly, Mum and Dad never kept that from me," he told her, "They've always told me I had a twin sister, but that she had to go away… they never did tell me why."

"So you don't even know why I was sent to live with the Grangers?" Hermione questioned in surprise.

"No. That's something that Mum and Dad never allowed me to know, though I'll happily admit that I'm quite curious as to the reason you were taken away from me."

"Was it hard for you to cope with, hearing that I was your sister?" Hermione asked quietly, "I mean we've never really spoken."

Blaise shrugged. "Well, no, not really. I mean; I never would've pegged you for my sister, but I must admit, it certainly fits."

Hermione looked confused. "What fits?"

"Why I never agreed with the things that were said about you; even from my own lips. I think deep down I knew who you really were."

Hermione wasn't quite certain that she believed this, but she wasn't going to argue with him about it. After all, he was being rather sweet to her. "So is it just the women in the Zabini family that marriages are arranged for?"

Blaise grinned as he answered, "Oh no, although I think I got the better end of the deal."

"Oh, so you're betrothed too?" Hermione questioned, a bit relieved that she wasn't the only one that had to go through this.

Blaise nodded. "To a girl named Beatrice Graphook," he told her, "Charming girl, really; she attends Beauxbatons."

"So, do our parents think we're incapable of finding our own spouses?"

Blaise rolled his eyes and put on his best impression of their father. "It is tradition in the Zabini family that the parents arrange fitting marriages for their children so as to uphold the family's nobility."

"Did he actually say that?" Hermione asked.

"Right after I asked him why I couldn't pick my own wife," Blaise told her with a nod, "And can you believe that I only found out about being betrothed two weeks ago? I mean, you'd think I would have known before then but, no."

"Have you given Beatrice a ring?" Hermione questioned.

Blaise nodded. "Our family is filled with traditions; one of which is that a mother's engagement ring is passed down to her son so that he can give it to his future wife."

Hermione looked down at her free hand, suddenly realizing she was still fisting the ring Draco had sent her, and held it up slightly, opening it. "I never thought I'd say this but, Malfoy has good taste in jewelry."

"He's actually pretty good at making jewelry too," Blaise commented, "I wouldn't be surprised if he made that ring."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Malfoy makes jewelry?" she questioned, slightly impressed.

"Yeah, sometimes," Blaise said, taking a few more steps, "He made a rather splendid necklace for his mum's birthday last year actually."

"I never knew," she said, "If he made this, he's very talented." _Even if it is too big._

Blaise cleared his throat momentarily before asking, "So I assume you wrote to Potter and Weasley about all this?"

Hermione nodded. "I've written them but I haven't had time to send it yet."

"If I were you, I'd stop worrying about what they'll think," he said, "It's not like they'll be able to do anything about it."

"Maybe so, but they're my best friends, Blaise. Their support means a lot to me," Hermione argued.

Blaise took a few more steps and stopped in front of a pair of tall, dark oak doors. "I understand, but just know that whatever they'll think of this, it probably isn't good and there's no way out of the engagement," he said, turning the handles and pushing the doors open, "This is your room."

Hermione's eyes widened to the size of saucers as she cautiously stepped into the room. It was very spacious with stained maple furniture and stained-glass windows that went from floor to ceiling, each with a rearing lion with a snake winding its way around its body. A deep red throw rug sat in front of the stone fireplace, which had a blazing fire in it, and matched perfectly with the deep red comforter that was neatly spread on her king sized bed.

She noticed that the room was decorated and arranged exactly as she liked it to be with her pictures framed and displayed on the walls or on her desk. Her desk was perfect for the way she liked to study; things spread everywhere so she could see all resources necessary. There was a large dresser against the far wall that she assumed contained all of her personal items, such as bras and underwear, and her Muggle clothes.

She moved her gaze to the left of the dresser and saw another door, also made of the same dark oak as the doors to enter her room. "Where does that lead?" she asked.

"That door leads to your private bathroom and the one on the other side is your closet."

She couldn't help herself; excitement washed over her and, eager to see what her bathroom looked like, Hermione almost ran across the room and flung the door open carefully. The sight before her almost took her breath away. The bathroom was almost the size of her bedroom.

A large, multiple person tub sat in the middle of the room with stairs leading down into it. A beautiful, sheer green curtain hung suspended several feet above the tub and looked as if it could be lowered to become a shower curtain. Vines crept up the walls and across the ceiling which appeared to have been enchanted to reflect the sky outside, like the ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The sink looked very much like a palm leaf and came right out of the wall. Just above that, a small waterfall trickled in mid-air, the large room reflected into it.

Hermione looked back at her brother and asked, "This is all for me?"

"Well you didn't think you were gonna be living like a Muggle anymore, did you?" he teased.

"Well, no, but I never expected this," she replied in awe.

She wasn't quite sure what to think about the extravagant luxuries that were being bestowed on her. It almost felt as if they were meant for someone else, or that she was taking over someone else's life. Nothing seemed real to her just yet.

"Mum would have nothing but the best for her daughter," Blaise said, "I'm sure that if anything isn't to your liking, Mum would be happy to get it changed for you."

"Thank you, but really, that won't be necessary; it's a bit much, to be honest, but everything's lovely."

"Would you like to see how everything works?"

"Oh, yes please," she replied graciously.

After Blaise gave her a quick lesson on how the fixtures in the bathroom worked, they walked out of the bathroom and Blaise sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment as she continued to look around her new room. She looked so bewildered that he couldn't help chuckling a bit. Hermione turned to him questioningly. "What?"

"Nothing, you just seem a bit… um… puzzled."

"Well how would _you_ feel if you had just found out a few hours ago that you were really the child of Muggles?" Hermione countered.

"I'd probably be looking a lot like you are right now," Blaise admitted.

"I just haven't managed to wrap my head around all of this just yet," Hermione whispered.

Blaise nodded in understanding. "I can't even begin to imagine what must be going through your head right now," he said, "but I promise that you'll like it here. Mum and Dad have talked of nothing but bringing you home for the past week; they've missed you so much. We all have."

Hermione sighed heavily as she walked over and sat down next to Blaise, chewing on her bottom lip for several minutes. "I just really don't understand how they could have given me up the way they did," she said suddenly.

"Mum and Dad?"

"Yes, I mean; how can someone just leave their child in the hands of complete strangers and then come back for her seventeen years later? Why not sooner? Why come back at all?"

There were so many questions and thoughts running through Hermione's head she felt that if she didn't get them all out, she'd burst. As she ranted, she stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. Blaise turned his head, following her movements intently. It was quite amazing to him that she could go on for so long without pausing for anything other than a breath of air.

Finally, after several minutes, Hermione stopped pacing and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Blaise chuckled as he asked, "You don't actually expect me to answer every single one of those million questions; do you?"

Hermione ran her hand through her hair and huffed lightly. "Well, I suppose not," she said logically, "I'm sorry; I tend to rant when I'm feeling out of place."

"Its fine," Blaise told her, "To be honest, it was kind of like watching Mum."

"Really?" Hermione asked as she sat back down next to Blaise.

"Yeah; Mum goes on and on about things sometimes and she paces when she does it."

"Can you tell me more about our parents?"

Blaise ran a hand over the back of his neck and scrunched his nose a bit in thought. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything; everything."

"Um, well, let me see here… Dad was born in Italy… you knew that though; didn't you?"

Hermione smiled a bit. "Well, the accent kind of gave that one away."

"Dad has an accent?" Blaise asked jokingly.

"Are our grandparents still living?"

"Yes… well, three of them anyway. Grandfather Zabini died when I… we… were four."

Just then, Blaise caught sight of the time. "Um… you should probably get ready for dinner," he said.

The slight sense of calm that Hermione had been feeling quickly melted away and was replaced by nervousness and slight revulsion at the thought of dinner with the Malfoys, well Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy anyway. "Did you have to remind me?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, saying, "Oh it won't be that bad. Come on," he said, walking over to her closet.

"It's just so nerve-wrecking," Hermione stated, following him, "And I haven't had the best of experiences with the Malfoy's in the past."

He opened the door and walked in, followed shortly by Hermione. In the middle of the closet, resting on what seemed to be a life-sized model of herself, was the most beautiful deep green dress she had ever laid eyes on. Her mouth dropped open as she walked over to it and gently touched the soft fabric; pure silk.

Blaise cleared his throat. "Well, I'll leave you to shower and dress. Gripa will most likely be up shortly to help you with your hair and the dress."

"Oh that won't be necessary," Hermione said, coming out of her daze, "I've managed to fix my own hair for nearly seventeen years, I think I can continue to do it on my own."

"She's actually very gifted at fixing hair, but suit yourself. I'll be down the hall on the left if you need anything, okay?"

Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile. As he turned to leave, she called out to him, "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, "We've never gotten along before, so why now?"

Blaise's azure eyes saddened. "Hermione, I can't even begin to imagine how you must have felt over the past six years with Malfoy and the rest of us teasing you and saying all the things that we did… but even through all of that, I always had a soft spot for you," he confessed, "As I mentioned before, it was like I subconsciously knew who you really were… I'm so sorry for everything I did and said to hurt you over the years."

Tears fell freely from Hermione's eyes as she listened to her brother's heartfelt words and saw the look of true remorse on his face. She had never thought she'd ever be able to forgive a Slytherin for tormenting her to no end, but as she looked at him, every hurtful comment and action he had been a part of melted away and she saw the truly kind young man underneath the façade. She walked over to him and hesitantly wrapped her arms around his thin waist in a hug. When she felt his strong arms wrap around her shoulders, she tightened her embrace and cried into his chest.

A few moments later, Hermione pulled away slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I made a mess on your shirt."

Blaise looked down at his shirt and shrugged. "It's not a big deal; it's just a shirt," he said softly, "I hope you can forgive me for everything."

"I don't know how I'm able to actually say this but, I do," she said, "You've accepted me into your family with open arms; I couldn't hate you for being so kind to me during an awkward time."

"Well, you're my sister, Gryffindor or not; I wouldn't be able to turn away a family member, especially one that's meant so much to me regardless of her absence."

Hermione smiled and wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Well, I'd better get ready for dinner," she said, "I've got a possible fiancé and future in-laws to impress, no matter how much I despise them. The in-laws, that is."

"Just give them a chance; I'm sure you'll come to at least like them a little bit," Blaise said. He then walked out of her bedroom and closed the door quietly, leaving Hermione to prepare for the most nerve-wrecking dinner she would ever have.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Only the plot and few original characters are mine...

**Chapter Four**

Draco Malfoy sat slumped in his seat in the family carriage, glaring out the window. He had been in a foul mood ever since his parents had finally revealed who he was betrothed to. He had always known that he was going to be marrying Blaise's twin sister, Hermione, his parents had never hidden that from him, but he had never guessed that it was Hermione Granger. Why did it have to be _her_ of all people? True, she was quite attractive, but she was just so damn stubborn!

Draco's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his mother's smooth voice, "Draco darling, don't slump like that, you'll get your new dress robes all wrinkled," she said softly.

With a heavy sigh, Draco sat up and looked at his parents questioningly. "Why are we going to the Zabini's for dinner tonight? Aren't we supposed to wait a few days after the betrothal is revealed or something before going to meet with the family?"

"Normally, yes; but tonight is a very special occasion, due to Hermione's homecoming, and Marjorie requested that we join them for dinner," Mr. Malfoy told him, "You will behave and treat your fiancée with respect. I will expect nothing less."

"Father, she's an absolute bore," Draco complained, half-heartedly.

His father looked at him sternly, "I don't care if you think she's the ugliest girl on this planet; you will treat her with respect!"

"Yes, sir," he replied, knowing full well that there would be dire consequences if he didn't obey.

Draco turned back to the window and gazed out, getting lost in his thoughts again. It wasn't that he was against the idea of marrying Granger… _Zabini_… it was just that he knew she hated him; although, the prospect that they could possibly get along intrigued him. Also, he had always thought of Blaise as his brother and now he really would be.

It was twenty minutes later when Draco's thoughts were interrupted, this time by the sight of the large brick Zabini mansion. _Well, this should be interesting, _he thought as they pulled into the long, circular driveway. _I wonder what Granger… Hermione… thinks of all this anyway. Probably searching through books to find some way out of this, knowing her._

The carriage came to a stop in front of the grand mansion and the door swung open. Draco took a deep breath and stepped out onto the gravel drive. He then turned and held his hand out for his mother, his steel gray eyes never leaving the mansion door which was now opening to greet them.

"Sir and Mrs. Malfoy, and Master Draco we is been expecting you," squeaked the little house elf as she came running out.

"Gripa, go and see how long dinner is going to be please, I will take it from here," Mr. Zabini called, walking toward them.

"Yes, Sir," Gripa replied quickly, her tiny legs scurrying as fast as they could.

"Pietro, how good to see you," said Mr. Malfoy with a pleasant grin.

"And you!" Mr. Zabini returned, pulling him into a hug. He then turned to Mrs. Malfoy and kissed her hand as he said, "Narcissa, always a pleasure."

"Thank you so much for having us, Pietro," Mrs. Malfoy said sweetly.

Mr. Zabini beamed. "Oh it is our pleasure, we are glad you could come," he told her, turning finally to Draco. "And here is the future son-in-law, how are you my dear boy?"

"A bit shocked, really," he answered, shaking Mr. Zabini's hand.

"Yes, well I do not think you are the only one. Blaise tells me that you and Hermione despise each other?" Mr. Zabini asked, leading them all into the warm mansion.

Draco cleared his throat, "Well, we cert…" he began.

"However uncivil their interactions have been in the past, I'm sure all of that will be forgotten now that Hermione's true identity has been revealed," Mr. Malfoy interjected, "I mean, really Pietro, hiding her with Muggles? How utterly improper of you."

"Now, Lucius, you know quite well that we will do anything to ensure our children's health," Mrs. Zabini said as she greeted them in the foyer, "And these Muggles were very kind and certainly fit to care for her."

"I have no doubt about that," Mr. Malfoy replied, kissing her hand, "Marjorie, you're getting lovelier every day."

Mrs. Zabini blushed slightly as she turned and greeted Mrs. Malfoy with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "So wonderful to see you, Narcissa," she said.

"You too. I can't believe this day is finally here!" Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed, "Where is the bride-to-be?"

"She should be down any minute," Mr. Zabini said.

"Will the rest of the family be joining us tonight as well?" Mrs. Malfoy questioned.

Mrs. Zabini shook her head and said, "Not this evening. Pietro and I didn't want to overwhelm Hermione too much on her first night home. She's had a pretty rough day as it is."

"Oh I can't even begin to imagine, what with finding out she's a Zabini and betrothed on top of that."

"Oh yes, but she seems to be handling it all right," Mrs. Zabini said.

"Oh, Marjorie, I'm just so thrilled that Hermione is home now and that the wedding can take place as we've planned all these years," Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed.

Draco cleared his throat. "If you will excuse me, I think I'm going to see if I can find Blaise," he said politely.

"He's probably finishing up getting ready for dinner dear. Go ahead and head up to his room," Mrs. Zabini told him with a kind smile.

Draco nodded and made his way to the staircase. He needed to get away from all the talk about the engagement. It was making his head hurt. In all honesty, he could understand why his parents had arranged this marriage between himself and Hermione with her parents; it was a smart match. Both he and Hermione came from a long line of noble, pure blood and neither one of them would have to worry about finances for their entire life. _Smart match indeed,_ Draco thought, _seems more like one of Father's business arrangements._

He ran his hands over his face in an attempt to rub out whatever nervousness he might be showing. Growing up, he had never truly been allowed to show his emotions; his father saw emotion as a sign of weakness. However, at the moment, he couldn't help feeling nervous at the thought of hearing what Hermione thought of their betrothal. _After all, we haven't exactly been on the greatest of terms._

For the past six years he and Hermione had done nothing but fight with each other. Names had been called, spells had been cast… could they really get past all that and find love with each other? _There's no way that'll happen,_ he thought, _there's too much bad history between us, not all my fault, of course, but she'd most likely hex me before she'd ever forgive me for anything._

A small smile came to his face as that thought crossed his mind. If there was one thing he genuinely liked about Hermione Granger… _Zabini_… it was her quick-witted ability to shoot insults back at him and his friends without hesitation. Most of the students at Hogwarts were afraid of him and his friends for one reason or another, but Hermione wasn't. He could see it in her eyes. _Not to mention, she's wicked smart._

Smart women were a secret weakness for him. He also liked women who wouldn't just give him what he wanted. Contrary to what his schoolmates thought, he liked the challenge of working for the things he wanted, whatever they may be. When things were just handed to him, he felt spoiled (which he knew he was anyway) and unsatisfied. However, when he had to work for things, he felt a sense of pride and satisfaction when he finally got them. Hermione was certain to be a challenge; he'd known that since he'd first met her.

Just then, Draco's thoughts were broken by his name being called. He looked up the hall and saw the familiar figure that was Blaise. "Blaise, how you doin' mate?"

Blaise smiled, "Can't complain. You?"

"I don't know really. I'm not sure what to make of this bloody betrothal," Draco replied, "Nothing seems to make sense right now."

"If it makes you feel any better, Hermione's in a right state about it all."

Draco ran a hand through his usually slicked back hair and chuckled. "Doesn't want to be caught dead marrying a Malfoy does she?"

"Surprisingly, it's nothing like that. She's just nervous," he said, "She thinks you hate her."

"Can't say I blame her," Draco said, "I've never given her a reason to think otherwise."

"But we know the truth, don't we mate?" Blaise teased, wiggling his brow playfully.

"Piss off," Draco snarled in mock anger, "Can't have her hearing you! I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Oh don't tell me you're going to try and keep up with the insults."

"Well, don't you think it would be weird if they suddenly stopped?"

"Not really," Blaise said, "I mean; she forgave _me_ for them, why wouldn't she do the same for you?"

"I was worse to her, Blaise," Draco replied, "besides, the whole of Hogwarts would be talking if we suddenly showed up acting all… well, like a couple."

"So? I'm sure she'd understand if you talked to her; and since when have you cared what others think?"

Choosing to ignore the direction the conversation was headed, Draco shifted it a bit. "So what's it been like with her here?"

"Nice, but a bit awkward. I mean; you know I've always wanted a sister but it's strange having one all of a sudden, you know?"

"I can only imagine. How'd she take the news of being pureblood?"

Blaise shrugged. "Honestly, I haven't had a chance to really talk to her. As soon as we got home I brought her up to her room," he said, "I can tell you one thing though."

Curiosity swept over Draco's face. "And what's that?"

Blaise smirked. "She likes the ring."

"And what makes you think I care if she likes the ring or not?" Draco asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh please, every guy, when they give a girl jewelry, cares if she likes it or not."

Draco looked down at his fingernails as if they held some sort of interest for him. "It sure as hell took a lot of thought," he said quietly.

Blaise eyed him carefully. "You're really liking this aren't you?"

"I don't know. It's kind of hard to say right now; I mean we've never exactly gotten along, have we?" he replied, "Hey, why didn't you tell me Hermione was your sister anyway?"

"I never knew she was," Blaise confessed, "I had a few suspicions about her but I never got any solid proof until Sunday when Mum and Dad told me. When did your parents tell you?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Two nights ago," he said, somewhat bitterly, "They wanted me to have time to prepare."

"Prepare for what?"

Draco shook his head. "Not '_for_ what'," he said, "Just 'what'."

Blaise looked at him curiously. "What are you…?" Before Blaise could finish his question, however, Hermione's bedroom door opened.

Draco's steel gray eyes widened slightly at the sight that was just a few feet from him. Standing just outside her doorway was a very elegantly dressed Hermione, her usually slightly ragged appearance nowhere to be seen. Draco couldn't take his eyes off of her as she stepped carefully out of her room and closed the door. His gaze slowly looked her over, not wanting to miss a single detail.

Her tiny feet were clad in a beautifully made pair of ballet flats of the deepest green with silver ribbons that climbed their way up her delicate legs and disappeared under her matching dress. The dress, Draco noticed, didn't really leave a whole lot to the imagination with the way it formed perfectly to her figure, held up by spaghetti thin silver straps. Her hair, for the first time since the Yule Ball during their fourth year, had been swept off of her neck into a neat French twist.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to her hands as she smoothed the front of her dress. Her hands were bare, not that he had expected to see the ring he'd sent her gracing her finger so soon; although he had hoped that it would be. He glanced up and found himself gazing into her honey brown eyes.

Hermione gave him a small, nervous smile and looked down at her feet. Draco cleared his throat and quickly looked away as well. Blaise beamed at his twin sister and walked over to her, taking her small hands in his. "Hermione you look absolutely stunning!" he exclaimed.

Hermione looked up at him. "Thank you, Blaise," she said, "So do you."

Blaise spun around so that she could get the full effect of his black suit and gave her a small bow. "Thank you," he replied, "Well, as you can see, the Malfoys have arrived. Allow me to present you to your husband-to-be, Draco."

"You don't need to introduce us, Blaise," Draco said, a bit sharply, "We've known each other since first year."

"There's no need for you to snap at him, Malfoy," Hermione stated coolly, "He's only being polite. Something you obviously have trouble comprehending."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly for a moment, then, remembering his father's words, softened a bit. "You're right," he said. He then turned to Blaise, "I'm sorry mate. I didn't mean that how it sounded."

Blaise smiled. "Hey, tensions are high right now for the both of you; you're bound to snap sometimes," he said, "No problem. Are we all good?"

Hermione gave him a small nod and opened her hand. "Um… Mal… Draco, I know this might sound a bit crazy to you," she began, looking up at him, "but um… I've always dreamed that… Ever since I began dreaming about getting married, I've always envisioned my future husband putting the engagement ring on my finger… I'm not saying it has to be done right now because honestly, I'm not completely comfortable with our betrothal just yet."

"I'm not either," Draco confessed, "but I'm willing to start fresh if you are."

Hermione smiled a bit and bit her bottom lip ever so slightly. "I'd like that," she said softly.

"Listen," Draco began after clearing his throat, "I'm sorry for treating you the way I have over the years. I have no excuse for the way I've acted other than; it's how I was raised. Is there a chance that you could forgive me for all that I've said and done to hurt you?"

Hermione was silent for several moments before she nodded and said, "Yes, I think I can do that; given time."

Draco took the ring out of her hand and held it up a bit. "How about I hold onto this until we're both ready for it to be on your finger?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Hermione agreed, looking down at her feet.

When she finally looked up, she noticed that Draco was twirling his finger in front of her. "Turn," he said simply.

Reluctantly, Hermione obliged and turned gracefully so that he could get a good look at her. "Something's missing," Draco said, chin in hand. After a few moments, Draco reached inside his dress jacket pocket and withdrew his wand.

Wordlessly, Draco drew his wand around in the air. It took a few seconds for Hermione to realize that the silver smoke now coming from the wand's tip wasn't, in fact, smoke at all, it was silver. Her eyes widened in amazement as the thin chain he was creating suddenly began sliding around her neck.

She looked down at the chain and noticed that it was exactly like the band of the ring that sat comfortably in Draco's pocket. The head of an emerald eyed snake came into view just below her collarbone followed shortly by a curved tail just an inch below that. The tail was that of a rattlesnake, its rattler made of diamonds, encircling a princess cut emerald.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the beauty of the necklace Draco had just made her. She held the diamond encrusted tail with the emerald wrapped protectively in its coil gently in her hand as she examined it. It suddenly became clear to her just where her ring had come from.

Draco watched her silently through curious eyes as she looked over the piece of jewelry around her neck. He couldn't help noticing how beautiful she had truly become. _Wait a second… this is Hermione Granger… Zabini… loyal best friend of my two most hated enemies,_ he thought, _I can't be thinking she's beautiful… but, she is gonna be my wife…_

Both Hermione and Draco were brought out of their thoughts when they were interrupted by the squeaky voice of the house elf. "Master Blaise, Mistress Hermione, and Master Draco, your parents is looking for you," Gripa told them, "They is already seated in the Grand Dining Room."

Blaise cleared his throat. "Thank you Gripa. We'll be there shortly."

Gripa scurried off as fast as her little legs could take her and disappeared around the corner. Blaise walked over to Hermione and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, we should all get down to dinner before Mum and Dad throw a fit," he said, "They're sticklers for being on time."

Hermione nodded and then looked nervously at Draco. "Thank you for the ring and the necklace," she said softly, "They're beautiful."

"You're welcome," Draco replied, scarcely above a whisper.

Hermione gave him a small smile. She then took her brother's now outstretched arm and the two headed down the hall. Draco stood there for a moment, not quite sure of what had just transpired between Hermione and himself. Had they actually just had a brief few moments of kindness? Shaking himself of his thoughts, he quickly strode down the hall and made his way toward the dining room.

* * *

Meanwhile…

"Pietro, how is business going?" Mr. Malfoy asked as the four adults walked through the mansion to the Grand Dining Room.

Mr. Zabini smiled as he said, "Things have never been better. In fact, we are going to be receiving a shipment of rare documents written by the four founders of Hogwarts next week."

"Really, Pietro, that's marvelous," Mrs. Malfoy said.

"Yes, and we will be expanding the Founders wing considerably in the next month."

"Narcissa, you and Lucius must go to see the displays in the Founders wing at the museum!" Mrs. Zabini exclaimed, "It is simply exquisite. Oh, Pietro, you should take Hermione there before school starts up again."

Mr. Zabini nodded in agreement. "Yes, I am sure that if she is anything like me, she will enjoy it."

"Draco tells us Hermione is quite the bookworm," Mr. Malfoy stated.

"A love of reading tends to run in the family," Mrs. Zabini said with a smile. "I sometimes have trouble getting Pietro to come to bed when his nose is in a book."

"Pietro was quite the school boy when we were children," Mr. Malfoy nodded in agreement. He then glanced around impatiently. "Where the devil are those children?"

"I'm sure they're on their way, Lucius," Marjorie said, "Please be patient, Hermione's new to our family and needs time to adjust to everything."

"Forgive me, Marjorie," Lucius said graciously, "I often find myself being intolerant of tardiness that I forget how to be accommodating for such circumstances as this."

They each then heard footsteps coming from the hallway. "Oh here they are," Narcissa said.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own only the few original characters and the plot...

**Chapter Five**

Hermione's heart was pounding harder than she ever remembered it pounding before in her life. She gripped Blaise's arm a bit tighter and bit her lip as they turned one final corner and came to the door of the Grand Dining Room. _This is it,_ she thought, _this is the rest of my life… maybe._

She felt Blaise's warm hand cover hers and she looked up at him. "Relax," he whispered.

"That's easy for you to say," she whispered back, "_you're_ having dinner with friends. I'm having dinner with people who've tried to kill me and my friends."

Blaise chuckled. "You've been part of battles against adult wizards and witches and you're scared of a simple little dinner with a few people?"

Hermione huffed and muttered something that Blaise didn't quite catch. She then took a deep breath and allowed Blaise to escort her through to the Grand Dining Room. The doors to the Grand Dining Room swung open revealing a beautifully set dining table and four very proud parents beaming at the three teenagers. Mrs. Zabini stood up and rushed toward Hermione. "Hermione, you look lovely darling," she said, kissing her on the cheek.

Hermione let go of Blaise's arm and gave her mother a stiff hug. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Please, come have a seat. I'm sure you must be hungry," Mrs. Zabini said, guiding her to the table, "Lucius, Narcissa may I present our daughter, Hermione."

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy smiled kindly at her as she nodded toward them. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione," Mrs. Malfoy said.

"Not to be rude, Mrs. Malfoy, but we've met before," Hermione stated, as kindly as she could as she made her way to the seat her father was gesturing to, "We were both in the Minister's box at the Quidditch World Cup, remember?"

Mrs. Malfoy nodded in remembrance. "Ah yes, that's right. Such different times those were."

"Certainly," agreed Mr. Malfoy, "Miss Zabini, our apologies for such atrocities. Had we known of your true identity…"

"Your actions would have been different?" Hermione interrupted, "I accept your apology Mr. Malfoy but unfortunately do not believe for one second that things would have been different. I don't think I need to remind you who I'm friends with."

Mr. Zabini cleared his throat. "Hermione that is no way to speak to our guests."

Mr. Malfoy held up his hand in dismissal. "Pietro, it's quite alright. I do not pretend that our family's differences with your daughter haven't been great. Nor did I expect welcoming arms from her this night," he said. He then turned to Hermione, "Miss Zabini, your feelings of hatred towards this family are not misguided, however, I implore you to give us a chance."

"Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you that I've already made up my mind to give you a chance," Hermione said, "I've willingly accepted that I'm a Zabini, and that I'm betrothed to your son; providing we can all stop attacking each other, I'm willing to start fresh."

Mr. Malfoy gave her a gracious nod. Mrs. Malfoy then held out her hand as Hermione sat down, helped into her chair by Draco. "Come, come, let's see the ring!" she said excitedly, "Draco wouldn't show it to us before he sent it."

Draco coughed softly as he took his seat next to Hermione. "Mother…" he said in exasperation.

Hermione bit the corner of her lip. "I'm afraid I'm not wearing it just yet, Mrs. Malfoy," she said.

"Why ever not?" Mrs. Malfoy questioned with a look of mild shock, "I mean, it's customary for a woman who is engaged to wear an engagement ring."

Hermione nodded in agreement as she said, "I know that, Mrs. Malfoy, but please understand that I'm only going to be seventeen and I've just found out that I'm betrothed. Please, I will wear the ring when Draco and I are _both_ ready and comfortable with our betrothal."

"She also wants Draco to put the ring on her finger," Mrs. Zabini added softly, "Isn't that romantic."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded as Blaise said, "Mum!"

Mrs. Zabini looked at her son questioningly. "What? Is it so wrong to tell something that Hermione, herself, told us earlier this evening?"

"Mum, don't you think that might embarrass her? I mean, she's basically meeting the Malfoys formally for the first time… and she's out of her element here."

"Oh my goodness, I've lost my manners!" their mother exclaimed, "Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione gave her a reassuring look and waved her off slightly, "It's all right, Mrs. Zabini," she said, her cheeks burning pink.

"So, you're not refusing to marry; only asking for time to get to know each other and grow comfortable with the marriage arrangement?" Mr. Malfoy questioned.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip for a moment as she nodded. "I… _we_ … feel that it would be best," she said, glancing at Draco.

Mr. Malfoy and his wife both looked at their son in expectation. "Draco?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, I don't think it would hurt for us to take some time to get to know each other and get past our differences; if we can," he said.

"Darling, I don't think that's too much to ask," Mrs. Malfoy stated, looking at her husband with an expression that dared him to argue with her, "After all, they're not refusing to be married."

Mr. Malfoy remained silent for a moment. He then looked over at Mr. Zabini. "You're all right with this, Pietro?"

"They are not asking for anything more than time, Lucius," Mr. Zabini replied, "Marjorie and I see no harm in allowing it."

Mr. Malfoy nodded and then cleared his throat as dinner was brought in. "I'd like to propose a toast," he said, raising his glass of wine, "to the joining of our two families, and to the joining of Draco and Hermione. May they come to settle their differences and may every happiness be bestowed upon them."

"Here, here!" Blaise said, banging the table lightly with his fist and raising his own glass, "Hermione and Draco!"

"Hermione and Draco!" everyone chimed.

Hermione blushed madly as she held up her glass in thanks and then took a small sip. She honestly couldn't believe that all this was happening. She turned to look at Draco, who she found was looking at her as well, and smiled nervously into his stormy gaze. It was definitely a night to remember, however strange it might be.

"Dad, tell Hermione about the museum," Blaise said suddenly.

Hermione looked up curiously and asked, "Which museum?"

"The Museum of Magical History and Artifacts," Blaise replied, "Dad's the Curator there."

"Really?" Hermione asked in awe, "I've always wanted to go there but my… um… it couldn't be afforded."

Mr. Zabini smiled tenderly at her. "Well, now you can go there any time you like without having to pay a single Knut," he said, "We are getting a shipment of documents written by the founders of Hogwarts next week… Would you like to come with me to receive it?"

"May I?" Hermione asked, doing her best to control her excitement, however she was a bit nervous about the prospects of being alone with him.

"Of course, I would love for you to be there," Mr. Zabini said, "Blaise, Draco, you are welcome to join us also, if you are interested."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said with a nod of acceptance.

* * *

Dinner went rather well, as far as Hermione was concerned. She had gotten to see a very different, much unexpected side of the Malfoys as well as the Zabinis. It was almost as if she were seeing completely different people than the ones she had briefly known over the past six years. In a way, it almost made Hermione forget who she was accompanied by.

She watched her parents as they chatted happily about things in the lounge, playfully arguing over arrangements for the wedding or just catching up on times that had been lost between them. Although she still felt a heavy sense of nervousness, she couldn't help feeling that, no matter how much she fought it, she belonged there.

To her left, Draco and Blaise were quietly playing a game of Wizard's Chess, poking fun at each other when one of them made a stupid move. She leaned over in her seat and looked over the chessboard. "Oh, Blaise, if you move your Knight there to H-3, you'll leave room for that Bishop there to Checkmate Draco's King," she said, pointing.

Blaise and Draco looked at her curiously. "Where in bloody hell did you learn that?" Blaise asked.

"Ron made that move when he, Harry, and I were trying to save the Sorcerer's Stone from Voldemort our first year at Hogwarts."

The room suddenly went deathly quiet. Hermione looked around at the six faces around her nervously. The silence was just too much for her to take at the moment. Standing up, she cleared her throat. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a walk around the mansion to familiarize myself with it," she said.

"Of course dear," Mr. Zabini said, "I am sure all of this is overwhelming you."

Hermione gave a small smile. "Just a bit," she said. "There's just only so much one can take in on one night."

"Yes, yes… Perhaps we should all just let you rest," Mrs. Malfoy said.

"Oh, no, no… I'll be fine, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione assured her, "I just need a few moments."

With nods from each of the adults, Hermione turned and walked toward the door. "I'll join you," Draco said, standing up and walking toward her, "If that's all right with you, that is."

Hermione nodded. "I don't see why not," she said, eyeing him warily, "we've got some things to discuss ourselves."

"Agreed," Draco said, reaching out and opening the door, "Shall we take a walk in the garden?"

"That sounds lovely," Hermione stated, "I've just got a letter that needs sending off first."

Draco nodded and ushered her out of the room before their parents could engage them in another conversation about something. "Have you got an owl?" he asked when they were halfway up the first flight of stairs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Zabini sent me one earlier this evening as a gift of some sort," Hermione replied, "Her name is Callidora."

"Gift of beauty," Draco said, "I like it. So I'm assuming the letter you need to send is to Potter and Weasley?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Hermione sighed heavily and stopped walking, looking at Draco a bit cruelly. "Whether you like it or not, Malfoy, Harry and Ron are my friends and nothing you say is going to change that."

Draco ran a pale hand through his hair and looked her in the eyes. "Look, I'm not going to lie and say that I like Potter and Weasley, because I don't. The truth of the matter is, you're going to be a part of my life and with that comes your friends and family… as much as I dislike your friends, I'm going to respect the fact that they're your friends, and in return, do my best to be civil to them when they're around," he told her, "but please don't expect me not to defend myself if they provoke me."

Hermione thought about what he had just said for a moment. "That seems fair. I'll respect that decision and in turn, do the same, expecting that you'll not expect me to not defend myself if _your_ friends provoke _me_."

"Fair enough."

"Very well," Hermione said, continuing her journey to her room to see if Callidora had arrived yet, "Have your parents told you when the wedding's supposed to take place?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Sometime over Christmas Holiday I think," he answered, "but I think that they're re-thinking that after the conversation at dinner."

"Do you reckon our mothers will allow me any say in the planning?" she asked hopefully, "I mean, if we decide to go through with this that is?"

"Of course," Draco answered, a bit awkwardly.

"Good because I have a particular view on a few things," she said matter-of-factly.

Curiosity poured through Draco like tea being poured from a kettle. "Such as?"

Hermione glanced at him and blushed slightly. "Well I can't very well tell _you_ now can I? You're going to be the bridegroom."

"Yes, if we choose to get married, and I'm just going to find out what these 'views' are eventually anyway, so why not just tell me now?"

"Well because I'd rather not just yet," Hermione stated, "We haven't had the best of histories and I'd like to have a little more of a friendship with you before I divulge my secrets to you."

Draco nodded in understanding. "Well, if you'll allow it, there's one small request that I'd like to make for our wedding day; should it take place," he said.

Now it was Hermione's turn to be washed in curiosity. "And what's that?"

"Answer me this first; does your vision of a wedding dress include a veil?"

Hermione nodded.

"With a tiara?"

Again, Hermione nodded.

"Then my request is simple; let me make the tiara."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Not that I don't fancy the jewelry you've made for me already, but please, no snakes on the tiara."

"Done," Draco agreed with a small smile, "Would you prefer a lion?"

"Why have anything that shows house loyalty at all?" Hermione questioned, "I mean; honestly, does everything have to be about house pride?"

"Well, no, but it certainly makes things interesting."

As they reached her room, Hermione paused at the doors. "Might I ask, why do our families hate Muggles so?"

"I'm not sure really. I guess it all has to do with how they were brought up."

"Well it's bloody horrid if you ask me," she said.

"I can't say I completely disagree," Draco said quietly.

Hermione looked up at him in shock. "You… but…"

"I've seen some horrible things, Hermione. Things that I wouldn't wish anyone to see," he explained, "Things that have given me nightmares for months on end."

A look of pure sadness and terror clouded his face as Hermione watched him. She could no longer see the cruel boy that she had known for so many years, the young man that stood before her now was one of decency and mystery. She reached up hesitantly and gently touched his cheek, surprised by its warmth.

"I don't need your sympathy," Draco stated quietly.

"And my sympathy is something you won't have," she told him softly, "but my compassion, and possibly even my love, you will; given time."

Draco was taken aback by those words and the quiet way she had said them. He wasn't completely sure that her words held much truth, but he was certainly willing to find out. "We may just become a loving couple after all," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione withdrew her hand and gave him a small smile as she opened the door. "Possibly."

As she walked into her room, Callidora hooted softly and flew over to her. "Well there you are," Hermione said affectionately, "I was wondering when you'd arrive. I'm so sorry I left you at my parents."

Callidora nipped her finger lovingly in forgiveness and hooted. "She's beautiful," Draco said, coming up next to Hermione.

"Thank you. Callidora, I need to you take a letter to someone if you would please," Hermione said, walking over to her desk and picking up the letter she had written to Ron and Harry, "Please take this to Ron and Harry at the Burrow. They're to send back responses with you."

The owl took the letter in her beak and flew off immediately. A few moments later, another owl flew into the room carrying two envelopes. The owl landed gracefully on Hermione's desk chair. Hermione took the two letters from the owl and looked at the names written on them. "This one's for you," she said, handing one of them to Draco.

She then opened hers and began reading the curvy words that had been written by their headmaster.

Miss Zabini,

I would like to be the first to congratulate you on your engagement to Mr. Draco Malfoy. The two of you will make a fine match, however uncertain of it you may be. I look forward to seeing you both on September 1 of this year for your final year at Hogwarts.

Kindest regards to your family (new and old),

Albus Dumbledore

Hermione looked up from the letter and over at Draco. "Is yours from Dumbledore as well?"

Draco nodded, "He sends congratulations and well wishes," he said.

"Same here," Hermione stated.

"How in the bloody hell does he always seem to know everything?" Draco questioned, sounding almost in awe.

Hermione grinned knowingly. "He's a very wise man, however… strange… he may be," she said, re-reading the kind note, "I'm sure we'll receive more letters like this, as well as ones wishing us not to go through with this."

"I'm sure of it," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you; have you been made Head Girl?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"Well then it looks like you and I will be spending a lot of time together. I've been made Head Boy."

"You have?"

Draco chuckled a bit at the look on her face. "Well don't look so shocked," he said, "I'm a lot smarter than you've presumed."

Hermione's jaw dropped a bit. "Oh, no… I didn't mean…" she stammered, "Congratulations."

"Same to you," Draco said.

"So it looks like we really will be spending a lot of time together. I've read that the Head Boy and Girl share living quarters."

Draco nodded. "Well, a common room anyway. Bedrooms and bathrooms are separate," he said, "I wonder if that will change once we're married."

"I'm not sure. I suppose it would; if we decide to marry."

"Come to think of it, we'd be the only married couple at Hogwarts."

"Blaise will be married too."

"Yes, but his fiancée goes to Beauxbatons," Draco pointed out, "So, unless she transfers after they're married, we'd be the only married couple."

"Oh now that's a comforting thought," Hermione said with a light chuckle, "There'll be so many questions and stares, I don't know if I could handle it all!"

Draco nodded. "It would be hard, but I think we can manage," he said, "Now how about that walk in the garden?"

Hermione smiled. "Sounds lovely," she said.

Draco held out his hand, which Hermione hesitantly took, and led her out of the room. They walked the many hallways in silence, not sure of what to say to each other. This openness, however small it may be, was new to them and it wasn't something either one of them wanted ruined due to their secret feelings for the other.

As they walked the long, picture adorned hallways, whispers could be heard. Few at first, and then they seemed to multiply the more portraits they passed. It wasn't until they passed by a particularly large one that Hermione realized they were whispering about her. She turned around and placed her hands on her hips. "It's not polite to whisper about someone behind their back," she stated.

The portraits suddenly went still and silenced their whispers. Hermione nodded and turned back around, continuing on her walk out to the garden, again, in silence. Draco had to suppress a smile at her actions. It was so like her to scold someone, or something as the case may be, for being rude.

It wasn't until they reached the garden that Draco finally broke the silence. "You really do look beautiful tonight," he said, the words sounding slightly strange coming from his mouth.

"Thank you," Hermione said, blushing deeply, "You look quite handsome yourself."

"Thank you," Draco replied, looking down at his feet.

In a lot of ways, Draco felt quite uncomfortable and yet, in others, he felt as if he were walking on air. The whole aspect of love was new to him and he was determined to do things right. He knew that Hermione was, most likely, feeling the same as he was and he wanted to make her as comfortable with him as possible. He wanted to help her see that he wasn't really as bad as he pretended to be. "So you really like the necklace and the ring?"

"Yes, they're beautiful," Hermione said, unconsciously fingering the necklace around her neck.

Draco smirked a bit. "I was hoping you'd like them."

"I do," Hermione stated, "So, what did you think when your parents told you that you were betrothed to me?"

Draco sighed and pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket, twirling it nervously between his fingers. "To be honest, I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. I mean; given our history, it's not exactly something I would have pictured."

Hermione swallowed uncertainly. "And what do you make of it now?" she asked, her voice barely audible, "I mean; it almost sounds as if you _want_ to marry me."

"I don't know," he said honestly, "I can't say that I was angry about the arrangement; I was more shocked than anything. I'm not sure if we will be able to work out our differences but I'm willing to find out."

Hermione blushed a bit and looked around the garden. _Anything to keep from looking at Draco_. Never in her life had she seen such a beautiful garden. Flowers bloomed all around them as they walked down one of the many paths of the large garden.

Flowers unlike anything she had ever seen before peeked out at her from behind the trunks of small trees and from under leaves that had fallen on the ground. Sunflowers, not much unlike the ones she'd seen in the Muggle world, were bursting with bright light. Small Dogwood flowers barked and yipped softly as they passed. She leaned down close to a pretty-looking plant with greenish-red skin and reached out to run her fingers over it.

Draco's hand suddenly grasped her wrist. "You don't want to touch that," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why not?"

He reached down and grabbed the hard stem of a Goldenrod. "Snap Dragons," he said, extending the stem toward the harmless looking plant. It immediately began snapping and chewing on the stem, "They're tricky little blighters and don't like to be touched unless they've known you from a seedling."

"Oh, I see," Hermione said softly, looking down at Draco's hand still clasped around her wrist.

Draco dropped the stem he'd been playing with and looked back at Hermione. When he saw her looking down, he followed her gaze and realized that he was still holding on to her wrist. Without a word, he let go of her wrist and looked up at the sky. "So… ahem… I imagine Potter's going to have a hard time of it in Quidditch this year."

Hermione looked up at him with her eyebrows furrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been made captain of the Slytherin team," Draco replied with a slightly arrogant air about him.

"And you think that's going to make Quidditch difficult for Harry?" Hermione questioned, "Draco, Harry's got a year of experience as captain on you…"

"And I've got years more experience playing than he has," Draco argued, "I've played my whole life and he's only been playing since our first year."

Hermione could tell that Draco was beginning to get angry so she said, "We'll just have to see what happens. I mean; you're both skilled players."

Accepting this for exactly what is was, a compromise, Draco nodded and began twirling his wand between his fingers again. Wand twirling had nearly always been a nervous action for him but at the moment, it was just an action to keep him from fidgeting. He had always thought of himself as a confident bloke but his confidence seemed to be fading at present.

Draco found himself truly wanting to get to know Hermione but uncertain of how to go about it. He had never had a problem like that before. He had always spoken with girls he was interested in quite well but this seemed to be different. It was as if he had suddenly become incapable of speech.

Hermione, also, seemed to be having trouble finding words to say. Normally, when she and Draco spoke to each other, harsh words came out of his mouth as well as hers. This was entirely new territory, in more ways than one, and she wasn't sure how to handle it. Everything just seemed so surreal, as if she would just suddenly wake up and realize it had all been a dream. _But it isn't a dream,_ she told herself, _this is real. You're really a Zabini and you're really going to be marrying Draco Malfoy… Possibly._

Suddenly, a cool breeze blew past them causing Hermione to shiver slightly and rub the upper part of her arms. Draco noticed this and instantly took off his jacket. "Here," he said placing it over her shoulders.

Hermione slid her arms into the sleeves and gave him a small smile of thanks. "Thank you," she said softly as Draco's warmth surrounded her.

Draco cleared his throat and nodded. "You're welcome."

Not another word was spoken between them for the rest of their time in the garden.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the few original characters...

**Chapter Six**

Later that night…

Hermione walked along one of the many Sunflower lit paths of the garden, taking in all the sights. The Malfoys had left just over an hour ago so she was taking advantage of her solitude. She had always loved gardens and this one was no exception. She was in awe of such beauty possessed by the Goldenrods and Snapdragons that she couldn't resist just being among them. Something about them calmed her, helping her to make sense of everything.

Her thoughts seemed to be all over the place as she found a comfortable looking bench and sat down. She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands and sighed. _What a night this has been,_ she thought, _First, I find out that I'm the daughter of Pietro and Marjorie Zabini. Then I find out that I'm betrothed to someone who hates me… or at least I thought he did. I'm not so sure now… Then I have dinner with two families that have tried to kill me over the past six years... What is this world coming to?_

Her heart sank as the Grangers flew into her mind. She had been so rude to them when they had first told her of her true identity. She really hadn't given them the chance to explain their side of things. She had just exploded in anger and had spouted off questions selfishly, not really thinking of how they felt or what they needed.

Silent tears filled her eyes as she thought about how horrible she must have made them feel. The hurt looks on their faces as she had taken her anger out on them flashed in her mind. She knew that they had raised her to be a better person than to just yell at someone because she was angry, but she hadn't been able to help it. Her anger had blinded her. _What a lovely girl I turned out to be,_ she thought sarcastically.

The sound of footsteps coming toward her caused to her lift her head. The tall, lean figure of her twin brother now stood just a few feet away from her, concern written all over his face. "Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure," she replied, tears evident in her voice, "I mean; it's all kind of coming at me so fast that I'm not sure I can keep up."

"Listen, I know we really only met tonight, but I'm here if you want to talk," Blaise told her, "I want you to be happy here, Hermione."

Hermione patted the bench next to her and gave him a small smile. She wasn't certain just how much she should actually tell him, but she knew that she needed to get her thoughts out or she'd burst. "My thoughts are all so jumbled up I'm not sure where to begin," she told him.

Blaise sat down and looked up at the sky. "Must've been pretty hard for you; hearing that you're a part of a family with such a dark history."

Hermione wiped her eyes and sniffed. "You have no idea," she whispered, "I mean; I've spent the past six years fending off attacks from the Malfoys, the Zabinis and many others. Now I find out that I'm actually Pietro and Marjorie's daughter; your sister… it's almost overwhelming."

"You don't like being a Zabini." It wasn't a question, more a statement of sorts.

"I… I think it's a bit too soon to tell," Hermione confessed, "Though I'll admit, I'm quite surprised at how different you all seem to what I've known."

Blaise gave her a sad smile. "Mum never agreed with Dad's choice of joining the Death Eaters; she tried to change his mind before he got branded, but he didn't listen. I think he realizes how bad of a choice it was to join now."

"You don't think he's loyal to Voldemort anymore?"

Blaise shrugged. "I really can't say, but he's seemed more hesitant to do the Dark Lord's bidding than he used to," he answered, "Was it hard finding out that you have a brother?"

"Hard? No. Weird, yes, but nice," Hermione replied, "I've been an only child all my life… well at least I thought I was… but I always wanted a brother or sister."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've always been envious of people like Ginny and Ron Weasley who have several siblings."

"Why?" Blaise questioned, looking at his sister.

"Because, even if they have no one else, they've got each other."

"Well, now _we've_ got each other," Blaise said with a hopeful smile, "At least, I hope we do."

Hermione smiled at him. "Yeah, we do," she said looking up at the sky, "Oh, Callidora's returned! I must go see what she's got."

"Of course. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Thank you," Hermione said, standing up and kissing him on the cheek, "You know; you're really not as bad as I thought you were."

Blaise smiled broadly and watched as Hermione ran off toward the Mansion. Although he wasn't sure how he knew it, he knew that they were going to become great friends. With that thought, he stood up and headed toward the Mansion himself.

* * *

Once she had gotten to her room, Hermione quickly changed out of her dress into something more suitable for lounging. She also took her hair out of the French twist it was in and tied it into a ponytail. She then picked up the letters Callidora had brought her, giving the owl a gentle pat, and climbed onto her bed. She was pleased to see that she had not two, but four letters. She opened the one on top and began reading the neatly written note from one of the only female friends she had at Hogwarts.

Hermione,

Talk about shocking! I really don't know what to say. Can't believe you're a Zabini… and soon to be a Malfoy? Seriously, what are the Zabini's thinking betrothing you to that piece of muck? Guess they have a reason for it, and it better be a good one!

I guess I should say Congratulations, considering it's something you seem to be looking forward to. Also… I can't believe you didn't include me in your letter to Harry and Ron!

Has Malfoy given you a ring? Hope it's a good one! I want to see it!

Much love,

Ginny

P. S. Did you make Head Girl?

Ginny's words of mild encouragement warmed Hermione's heart. She was truly grateful that at least one of her friends was being supportive. _And how like her to expect to see the ring,_ she thought, feeling a bit guilty for not including Ginny in her initial letter to Ron and Harry. She then put Ginny's letter aside and opened the next.

Hermione,

I don't believe it! I really don't. You're actually thinking of marrying that git, Malfoy? Guess there's no way of changing your mind? So… I'll try and be nice about it. You are my friend after all.

Congratulations…

Harry

Hermione could tell, even if he hadn't stated it, that Harry was only supporting her because she was his friend. She knew he'd do his best to keep his word though, yet she also knew how deep his hatred for Draco and Blaise went.

The next letter she picked up was from Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione,

Oh such wonderful news dear! Engaged! Arthur and I are so happy for you! (Although I'm not so certain you should fully trust the Malfoys, or the Zabinis.) I had heard of the Zabini's having twins, but the daughter was never discussed. Makes a bit more sense now… They must be happy to have you back in their lives…

Well, I'm sure you've got many things to do, spending time with your family and making plans for the wedding and all. I'd love to make your cake for you, if that's all right. Please, if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.

Much love to you,

Molly Weasley

A smile spread across her face as she read Mrs. Weasley's kind words. She was much like a mother to Hermione with as much time as she had spent at the Burrow over the years. As she set Mrs. Weasley's letter aside, dread came over her. She had one letter left to read; Ron's. Although they had only ever thought of each other as brother and sister, he tended to be over-protective of her, much like he was over Ginny.

Hermione,

You've got to be out of your bleeding mind to marry that git, Malfoy. Completely off your rocker. I don't want you marrying that slimy ferret. He's bad news and you know it!

Ron

Hermione set down Ron's letter with a loud sigh. She knew that Ron didn't like Malfoy; in fact, he hated him, probably almost as much as he hated spiders. At least he hadn't sent her a howler; she had been worried about that. _Knowing Ron, he's probably skulking about the Burrow, _she thought.

She looked over to her night stand at the pictures that were displayed there. There was a picture of herself with Harry and Ron on either side of her, smiling brightly and waving. Next to that one, sat a still photograph of her parents. She reached over and picked it up, looking over it carefully.

Tears started to flow from her eyes again as she replayed the scene of her them telling her that she wasn't really theirs in her mind. She had treated them so horribly and though they had somewhat made up, she felt the need to explain things to them. Hastily, she climbed off of her bed and walked over to her desk. She quickly found some parchment and a quill and a bottle of ink.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I know that it's only been a few hours since we've been apart but I miss you so much. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for the way I reacted when you told me that I'm a Zabini. It was very rude of me. I hope that you can forgive me for my utter childishness.

The Zabini Mansion is very lovely. I hope to have you visit sometime. It's going to take some getting used to living here, but you've taught me how to adapt well so I'm sure I'll manage. I truly am sorry for being so harsh to you both. You've raised me better than that and it's not your fault that all of this is happening to me.

I love you both very much and I'll write again soon!

Your loving daughter always,

Hermione

Just then, her attention was drawn to the door when a light knock sounded. "Come in," she called.

The door opened and Gripa waddled in. "Mistress Hermione, your parents is liking you to meet them in Sir's study," she said.

Hermione climbed off the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. _How utterly pureblood of them to send a house elf instead of coming to get me themselves,_ she thought. "Thank you Gripa," she said and though she didn't want to, she added, "Um would you please show me the way?"

"Gripa would be pleased to, Mistress!" she squeaked.

"Thank you."

Hermione followed the small elf down a flight of stairs and through a series of hallways. Each hallway they walked through bore pictures on the walls on either side. Hermione wanted to pause and look at them all but she had a feeling that now wasn't exactly the best time. It was after seeing the portrait of a particularly pretty young woman that Hermione saw they had come to a stop in front of a door.

"Here you are Mistress."

"Thank you Gripa," Hermione said. She then knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," came the muffled reply.

Hermione opened the door and poked her head in. "You wanted to see me?"

Mr. Zabini smiled. "Yes, please come in," he said, motioning to a chair, "Have a seat."

Hermione sat down in the comfortable chair opposite her father's desk and looked at him questioningly, "What's this all about?"

"We know you have had a very trying day today," Mr. Zabini began, "but we feel that the sooner we explain why we took you to the Grangers the easier it might be for all of us to become a real family."

"We want you to feel comfortable here and we don't think that will be possible without you knowing the whole truth," Mrs. Zabini added.

"However, if you are too tired just now then perhaps…"

Hermione shook her head as she interrupted, "No, please… I'd really like to know."

Mr. Zabini stood up and walked around his desk. "The first thing you must understand, Hermione, is that we love you," he said as he sat down on the edge of his desk. "Ahem… forgive me; it is difficult to know where exactly to begin. It was so long ago and everything happened so fast."

"Pietro, perhaps it would be better just to _show_ her," Mrs. Zabini suggested.

"Hmm, perhaps you are right, Marjorie," he said, standing up and walking over to a cupboard.

Hermione watched as he opened the cupboard and a bright shining light became visible. Mr. Zabini pulled out a large stone bowl and carefully carried it over to his desk. "Is… is that a pensieve?" Hermione asked in awe.

"Yes, it was handed down to me by my father," Mr. Zabini replied as he walked back over to the cupboard and began sifting through some vials, "I plan to hand it down to Blaise one day… Blaise has told us that you are quite the student, no doubt you have inherited that from me."

"I've always been told that I have an insatiable curiosity," Hermione said off-handedly, "I've read a bit about pensieves; they're supposed to hold the memories of a witch or wizard."

"That is quite true," he said, picking up two vials and walking back over to his desk, "Now, there are two memories that I am going to show you this evening. The first is by no means happy and I wish now that I had never taken part in such things. However, what is done is done and I hope that you can one day forgive me for the atrocities in my past."

Hermione bit her lip in thought for a moment and then said, "I think only time will tell if I'll be able to forgive you," she said, "I'm seeing a side of you that I never thought was possible but I'm not completely certain that I believe it just yet."

He gave her a small smile. "Yes, well, I have caused you a great deal of pain so if you were never to forgive me, I think I would understand," he said. He then looked at his wife questioningly, "Marjorie, will you be joining us?"

Mrs. Zabini shook her head. "I think not," she said, "I've heard enough about the crimes you've committed; actually seeing them would be far too much for me."

Mr. Zabini nodded in understanding and held his hand out for Hermione. "Very well, Hermione, you must hold tight to my hand." Hermione stood up and walked over to her father, grasping his hand tight, "Good, now, we must lean in close to the pensieve so as to be taken into it."

Mr. Zabini poured the silvery contents of one of the vials into the pensieve as the two leaned close to the silvery blue surface, so close that their noses were almost touching the liquid-like substance. Hermione's eyes widened as she suddenly felt herself being pulled into the pensieve. She gripped her father's hand even tighter as they fell slowly through the dark air.

They landed with a soft thud on what felt like a stone floor and Hermione looked around. Well, tried to look around anyway. She really couldn't see anything because it was severely dark and there seemed to only be a few lights coming from the distance, and getting closer.

As the light slowly got closer, Hermione could see dark figures all around her dressed in hooded black cloaks and gold masks. A small gasp escaped her lips. "Death Eaters!" she said, instinctively wanting to draw her wand, but knowing there was no need. This was a memory, and no one could see or hear her, or her father.

She looked around with much wonder. She could tell that the building they were in was old, however, where they were, she couldn't tell. The dimness of their surroundings hindered her vision slightly as she tried to make out anything she could. A fair distance ahead of them, a dull patter of footsteps could be heard.

_As they walked, the pitch black hallway became lit, a torch lighting itself as it was passed. Twelve figures crept through the dank hall, each draped in a long, black hooded cloak and their traditional gold skull mask. They each seemed to be walking with a purpose, as though they had been summoned by something, or someone._

_Each of the figures was curious as to why they had been sent for so suddenly and at such a late hour. Though their curiosity was practically killing them, they knew better than to ask questions unless permitted to do so. In their order, to speak before being spoken to was against the law and punishable in any way imaginable; even death._

_The figures stopped in front of a large, iron door. The sound of muffled screams could be heard as the figure in front removed his wand from his robes and tapped the door lightly. It immediately creaked open and the twelve figures that had just arrived, as well as the ones who had been waiting around, filed into the dark room that lay behind the door._

Mr. Zabini pulled Hermione through the door quickly. "Come, this is important," he said.

"Where are we?" Hermione questioned in a whisper.

"The basement of Riddle Manor."

_The Dark Lord gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Excellent. Excellent, you are all here," his cold voice said, "Come; join me, for there is much I have to tell you."_

_The figures formed an incomplete circle around their master and focused their full attention on him, refraining from looking to the floor to satisfy their curiosity. The Dark Lord stood from his throne-like seat and began walking around in front of them. "I sense that you are all wondering why I have called you here at so late an hour," he said, "The reason is this… There is tale of a Prophesied being that could destroy your Lord."_

_Whispers broke out among the cloaked figures. "Surely that's not possible my Lord," said a voice, louder than the others._

"_Impossible though it may be, I will not take the chance of it coming to pass," Voldemort said, "As it is, the Prophesy I speak of has already been made and now rests safely in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic."_

"_Then we shall retrieve it for you my Lord."_

"_Yes! Yes, we shall!" came several shouts of agreement._

_Voldemort lifted a pale, white hand and the room fell silent. "There is no need, for I have acquired the only witness to the aforementioned Prophesy," he said silkily, motioning to the figure on the floor._

_The Death Eaters took this as their allowance to look down. Their eyes were met by the sight of a practically mangled body, bloody and broken. It was obvious to them that their master had spent several hours, possibly even days, torturing this man for the information he wanted. "Zabini!" called Voldemort, "Step forward."_

_A tall figure, toward the center of their formation stepped forward and kneeled in front of Voldemort, "My Lord?"_

"_You will kill this man."_

_The kneeling hooded figure bowed low and lifted his hood and mask. "Anything to serve you, Master."_

Hermione let out a silent gasp. Kneeling just mere feet from her was a younger version of her father, looking up at Voldemort in adoration. Although she had known that her father was a Death Eater, she had not known just how close he had truly been to Voldemort.

_Zabini quickly stood up and withdrew his wand from his robes and pointed it at the cowering man at his feet. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted._

_With a flash of bright green light, the man on the floor was silenced and lifeless. "Let all those who choose to keep things from me know that this is what awaits them!" Voldemort stated loudly, "Lord Voldemort does not tolerate secrets!"_

_Murmurs of understanding filled the room. "My Lord?"_

"_Yes, Lucius, is there a question burning in your gut?"_

"_Yes, my Lord."_

"_You may ask it."_

"_If you please, what is it that the Prophesy states will destroy you?"_

"_That is not your concern Lucius," Voldemort said, "I have already chosen one of you to take care of this matter and it will be done so with no mistakes! Zabini!"_

"_Yes, my Lord?"_

"_This task is appointed to you. The rest of you may leave. I must speak to Zabini alone."_

_Obediently, the cloaked figures filed out of the room, leaving Zabini alone with Voldemort. "Sit," Voldemort said, flicking his wand._

_A chair fell silently next to Zabini, who instantly sat down. "How long have you served me, Zabini?"_

"_Ten years now my Lord."_

"_And you have served me well… which is why I am giving this task to you."_

"_I am deeply honored my Lord."_

"_As you should be; this task is very important," Voldemort told him, "However, before I tell you your task, I am going to show you what I saw in that horrid creature's mind."_

_With that being said, Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to his temple and slowly began pulling it away. Seemingly attached to the tip of the wand was a silvery liquid strand. Zabini knew this to be a memory. Next thing he knew, he was shot with a burst of pain just behind his eyes._

_Suddenly, his head was filled with the vision of an odd looking woman, seeming to be choking on something. Then, he heard it._

_**And so the Bringer of Darkness shall fall at the hands of The Light.**_

_**Wary should Darkness be for The Bearer soon approaches, Wielder of The Light.**_

_**None such as The Bearer has ever before walked this Earth.**_

_**Only a Crescent reveals her, a mark from her birth.**_

_**Her destiny shall be fulfilled, bringing Darkness's demise.**_

_**And The Light shall brighten, bringing joy to everyone's lives.**_

_Another burst of pain shot through him and he was looking at his master again. "What is your will, my Lord?" he asked._

"_You will find this 'Bearer' and destroy her," Voldemort said simply, "If she never comes to possess this 'Light' then I shall never be destroyed, though I do not worry about that."_

"_My Lord, are you not worried about the part that said 'Her destiny shall be fulfilled'?"_

"_Not in the least, Zabini. Now go, you have work to do," Voldemort said, "You must find out who this 'Bearer' is."_

_Zabini stood quickly and bowed his head. "Yes my Lord," he said. He then turned and left as quickly as he could so as to start doing his master's will._

Hermione suddenly felt a floating sensation as her father grabbed her hand. The two floated upward until they finally found themselves standing in the study. "So, there's something else that's meant to kill Lord Voldemort?"

Mr. Zabini shook his head as his wife gasped. "Do not say his name, Hermione," he said, bottling up that memory and picking up the next, "I am certain that there is something out there more powerful than anything we have ever seen."

"The Light?"

Mr. Zabini nodded. "The Dark Lord does not fear anything that we know of, but he will not stand for anything or anyone trying to destroy him."

"So, what is the Light, exactly?"

"I am not certain. It could be anything, I suppose," he told her as he poured the second memory into the pensieve, "Come, there is one more memory to see. Marjorie, I believe you should join us for this one."

Hermione grasped her father's hand tightly again as her mother joined them. During the dark fall, Hermione's thoughts were hopeful that this next memory would be happier than the one they had just seen.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and few original characters...

**Chapter Seven**

They were standing in a familiar looking hallway with large windows that looked out to some lovely green hills. Sunlight was pouring in, lighting the hall with bright, warm light. Hermione blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness as she looked around. "Are we… in the Mansion?"

"Yes, the day you and Blaise were born as a matter of fact," he answered, "Hush now; this is very important."

Hermione watched as a younger version of her father came running down the hall.

_Pietro's heart was pounding as he ran down the hall, coming to a skidding halt in front of a closed door. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. Screaming could just be heard through the thick wood of the door; screams of pain. Nervously, he bit his lip and began pacing in front of the door. He knew that he wasn't allowed in until everything was done, but that didn't stop him from wanting to burst through the door._

_Suddenly, the screaming stopped and a faint crying was heard. The door swung open and a much smaller, much younger Gripa came waddling out carrying a bundle in her arms. "Sir, oh Sir, it's a boy!" she squeaked._

_Pietro leaned down and took the little bundle from Gripa and cradled it in his arms. Brilliant blue eyes the color of sapphire stared up at him as he looked into his son's tiny face. "He is so handsome," he whispered, "Gripa, Marjorie is carrying twins; there should be another baby on the way!"_

_Just at that moment, more screaming began and Gripa hurried to her Madame's side, shutting the door with a slam as she went. Pietro looked over his first born and smiled. "Blaise…" he said softly, "yes, I think that suits you; Blaise Dominic Zabini."_

_A few moments later, Gripa came bursting back through the door with another bundle. "A girl, Sir!" she said, "She looks so much like Mrs."_

_Pietro took the baby girl from Gripa. "Yes, she does," he agreed. "How is Marjorie?"_

"_Mrs. is doing well Sir," Gripa answered, "She is resting. You may see her if you likes."_

"_Thank you Gripa," he said._

Hermione felt her mother's hand close over her shoulder as they followed the younger Pietro through the door.

_Pietro then strode into the bedroom and went straight over to the bed where his wife was resting. He sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed his wife's forehead. "How are you?" he asked, placing their son in her arms._

_Marjorie looked up at him and smiled. "I'm as well as I should be after just giving birth. Oh, Pietro, they're everything I'd hoped they'd be," she said weakly._

"_Yes, they are beautiful," he said._

"_What shall we call them?" Marjorie asked._

"_Blaise Dominic… and…" he paused, looking down at their daughter._

"_Hermione Jean."_

_Pietro smiled at his wife. "Yes, Hermione Jean."_

_Suddenly, a look of terror fell over Marjorie's face. "Pietro, her shoulder, look at her shoulder," she whispered._

_Pietro held the newborn baby girl up and looked. The blanket she was wrapped in had fallen from her tiny left shoulder revealing a Crescent shaped birthmark. "Oh dear," he said faintly._

"_Pietro, we have to do something," Marjorie told him, "The Dark Lord entrusted you with finding 'The Bearer' and killing her. Our daughter…"_

_Pietro kissed his daughter's head gently then placed her in her mother's arms. "Hush now, rest. We will figure something out," he whispered._

"_But, the Dark Lord…"_

"_Will never know of our daughter being born," he said. "We will hide her, fake her death… something. No one will ever know."_

"_But the Malfoy's… she's betrothed to Draco…"_

"_We will figure something out, darling," Pietro said, silencing her, "Now rest, we shall discuss this later."_

The scene faded to black and Mr. Zabini gripped his daughter's and wife's hands. Seconds later they were back in Mr. Zabini's study. Hermione looked from her mother to her father in understanding and utter disbelief. "So, you took me to the Grangers because I'm… I'm the Bearer?"

"We wanted to protect you," Mrs. Zabini explained, "We couldn't risk You-Know-Who finding out about you, so your father found the Grangers and…"

"And you abandoned me there for nearly seventeen years!" Hermione exclaimed, "You took me away from my home and, seemingly, loving family and left me with complete strangers."

"Hermione, you know what the Dark Lord tasked me with," Mr. Zabini argued lightly, "you cannot honestly think that I would be able to kill my own daughter! The very thought of that kills me."

"And leaving me with strangers and allowing them to raise me didn't?"

"Of course it did darling, but we had to do what was needed to keep you safe," Mrs. Zabini said, tears beginning to fill her eyes. She wanted to hug her daughter tightly to her, but considering she had only just met Hermione earlier that day she decided against it.

"So you just gave me up?" Hermione questioned, "Why couldn't you have just gone into hiding?"

Mr. Zabini ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. "Hermione, it is not that simple," he stated flatly, "We could not just go into hiding. The Dark Lord would have searched for us. He would have stopped at nothing to find us. He would have surely realized that something was amiss; that I had betrayed him."

"So how did you keep You-Know-Who from finding out about what you had done? I know he's excellent at reading minds."

"It was a matter of keeping out of his sight as much as I could manage under the guise that I was searching out the Bearer," Mr. Zabini said, "I also took to studying Occlumency just in case and hid the memory of you away in my pensieve. I could not risk anyone finding out about your true identity so I searched for a place to hide you."

Hermione listened carefully as her father continued. "I came across the Grangers at an orphanage in Oxfordshire; they were looking to adopt a baby. I listened to them telling their tale to the director of the orphanage and quickly realized that they would be perfect," he said, "That very night, I told your mother the plan that I had come up with and we took you to them; I trust you know the rest of the story from there?"

Hermione nodded, unable to speak for the tears that were filling her eyes and running down her cheeks. "It… it must have frightened you very much to find out that I was going to grow up to possess such a power that could destroy the darkest wizard of all time," she said after several minutes.

"We were more frightened of you being killed than anything else," Mrs. Zabini said, "So we did the only thing that we felt we could do; hid you away."

Hermione thought for a moment. Understanding and forgiveness washed over her as she thought about the sacrifice they'd had to make for her. Then another question came to mind. "So, then why did you betroth me to Draco Malfoy?"

"Well as far back as I can remember our family has wanted to merge with the Malfoy's," Mr. Zabini said, "but both families had only ever turned out boys. Lucius and I had been friends since before our days at Hogwarts so when we had both married, we made a pact that if one of us ever had a daughter, and the other a son, they would be married."

"I see," Hermione said, wiping her tears away, "Does Lucius Malfoy know my true identity?"

"No, only your mother and I know," her father said, "Nor does he know of the prophecy."

"We couldn't risk anyone being in danger of knowing your secret," Mrs. Zabini said, "We told anyone who knew we were having twins that you were very ill and needed to be hidden away."

"Didn't anyone ask questions about what I was ill with or anything of the sort?"

"Of course they did. We couldn't have anyone pulling the truth out of us so we made it clear that it was a touchy subject with us," Mrs. Zabini said.

"Are you still loyal to You-Know-Who?"

Mr. Zabini looked a bit taken aback by her question. "Hermione, you must understand; once you have received the Dark Mark, there is no changing of sides," he said sadly, "No matter how much you may want to."

"Surely there must be something you can do. Have you tried talking to Professor Dumbledore? I'm sure he could help you and Mr. Malfoy as well, if he's interested."

"Hermione, promise me that you will not do anything to try and save Lucius and me."

Hermione shook her head. "I'll not make any such promise," she said, "I'm sure there's a way for you to get away from You-Know-Who and I'm going to find it."

"Hermione…"

Mrs. Zabini put her hand on her husband's arm, silencing him. "Pietro, perhaps we should let Hermione go to bed. I'm sure she's had a rough day."

"Yes; that I have," Hermione agreed, standing up.

"Very well, good night, dear one," he said softly, kissing her on the forehead, "Sweet dreams."

Hermione nodded. "Good night," she replied. She then headed out of the study and back up to her room, thoughts of books she might be able to use to find out how she might help her father flowing through her mind.

* * *

Draco shut the door to his room with a yawn. It had been a long and confusing night and he was ready to call it a night. He looked over at his desk and saw a few letters sitting on top of a book he'd left open earlier that afternoon. With a few steps, he stood in front of his desk and sifted through the letters, seeing who they were from when a bright red envelope caught his eye.

He picked it up and it sprang to life, a loud voice echoing off the walls of his room.

Malfoy,

RIGHT, NOW LISTEN HERE YOU BLOODY FERRET! HERMIONE WILL NOT… I REPEAT, WILL… NOT… BE MARRYING YOU! SHE DOESN'T LIKE YOU SO YOU JUST STAY AWAY FROM HER ALL RIGHT? YOU DON'T DESERVE HER! YOU REALLY DON'T! I HOPE HERMIONE HEXES YOU INTO OBLIVIAN!

Ronald Weasley

Draco let out a howl of laughter as the howler burst into flames, destroying itself. He knew that Ron Weasley was quite fond of Hermione but he had no idea that he'd go to such lengths as to actually send him a howler. _Isn't he seeing that Lovegood girl,_ he thought?

He continued to chuckle as he picked up another letter. A soft groan escaped his lips when he recognized the curly writing on the envelope. _Why does she always have to bother me, _he thought, _haven't I told her I'm not interested in her enough times for her to leave me alone? Such a stupid twit, she is._

Draco,

I'm so terribly sorry to hear the news that you're engaged to that filthy Hermione Granger. You must be so miserable right now! Don't you worry, Drakie, I'll have my father write to your father as soon as possible about this! You won't have to marry that disgusting Mud-Blood!

All my love,

Pansy

He rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe what a twit Pansy Parkinson had turned out to be, and an obsessive one at that. He threw her letter into his fireplace with a loud sigh and picked up the final letter.

Draco,

Right now you're out taking a walk with my sister. I honestly hope that the two of you can get along and one day, even love each other. I can't think of a better bloke for my baby sister than my best mate, so treat her well.

Welcome to the family,

Blaise

A smile came across his features as he re-read the brief letter. In all the years that he had known Blaise Zabini, he'd never known him to express his feelings, at least not to a detailed extent. It was nice to know that Blaise trusted him with his sister. He knew Hermione meant a lot to Blaise, even if she hadn't been a part of his life until earlier that evening. He had always spoken to Draco of her, wondering what she might have looked like and such.

At the thought of Hermione, a picture of her flashed into his mind. She truly had looked radiant tonight, there was no denying that. He could only imagine what she would look like once the Glamour Charm that had been cast on her wore off. _A bit like Blaise I imagine,_ he thought. He then suddenly grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and sat down in the high backed, leather chair and began writing.

When he had finally finished writing the letter, after several drafts, he looked at his clock and noticed that it was well past midnight. He quickly folded the letter and stuffed it neatly into its envelope and wrote the address on the front. He then set the letter aside, wanting to wait until the correct time to send it.

He then stood and grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas. He quickly changed into them and laid down in the king sized bed, hands linked behind his head. He glanced around the dimly lit room and sighed heavily.

For the past seventeen years, he'd lived in this room and come Christmas Holiday, he'd no longer even live in Malfoy Manor; providing that he and Hermione decided to get married. His parents had arranged for him to have a house of his own once he was married and while he was excited to finally be living on his own, he couldn't help the sentimentality that crept over him.

With a huge yawn, Draco rolled over onto his side and looked around the room. Few pictures hung on the warm green walls or sat on the elaborate maple desk in the corner of his room. Black carpet covered the floor, graced with deep green throw rugs in front of the fireplace and next to his bed. An armoire stood against the far wall, a green snake carved into its side in the shape of an 'S'.

He'd had his room decorated like this since he'd come home for Christmas during his first year at Hogwarts. His parents had been so proud to learn that he'd been sorted into Slytherin that they had had their house elf, Dobby, change the décor of his room. It had been a shock when he'd come home and seen his "new" room.

His eyes came across his Nimbus 2001 propped up in the corner of his room, neatly groomed and shining. On the wall above his fireplace hung a large portrait of the Slytherin Quidditch team, for which he played Seeker. His eyes looked over at his desk, where, shining next to his Head Boy's badge was a smaller badge with a 'C' on it. When he'd received his Hogwarts letter, he'd gotten not only the Head Boy position but the Quidditch Captain spot as well.

An elaborate cage stood, climbing half way up the wall, between two floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows adorned with green snakes. A soft hoot came from inside the cage and Draco turned his attention to the large eagle owl that sat perched on one of the many perches. "Hush, Helios," he said softly, "You know Father doesn't like hearing you making a lot of noise."

_It'll be interesting to see how Hermione decorates our new house,_ he thought. He was certain that she'd use Gryffindor colors but the thought that she might do something different, and well, homely, intrigued him. _I guess I'll just have to wait and see._ With that thought, he closed his eyes and, within minutes, fell asleep.

* * *

The following morning Draco woke to the smell of something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. He looked at his clock and saw that it was seven o'clock. With a small yawn, he stretched his long limbs and climbed out of the bed. He made his way over to the grand cage and opened the latch, letting the brown and black eagle owl out.

The owl perched obediently on its desktop perch and waited. Draco took the letter he'd written the previous night off the desk and placed it in his beak. "Take this to Hermione Zabini at the Zabini Mansion," he said softly, now holding up a small parcel.

The owl hooted in reply and took the parcel in his talons. He then flew swiftly out of the now opened window. Draco watched as the owl disappeared, thoughts of what Hermione's reaction might be swimming through his head.

After a few moments, Draco moved from his spot in front of the window and strode over to his armoire. He opened the doors and selected a fresh pair of boxers out of the top drawer. He then made his way into his bathroom. Bright light surrounded him as he sidled over to a small shelf that stood next to his shower. After placing his clean clothes on the shelf the tall, lean wizard then stepped into the shower and drew the curtain.

It was a quarter to eight before Draco emerged from the shower, clean and fresh-faced. He wrapped a fluffy green towel around his waist and padded over to the silver, emerald snake encrusted sink. In minutes, he emerged from the bathroom freshly shaven and clad in a deep blue, button down dress shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

As he began leaving his room, he noticed an owl flying toward his window. He hurried over to the window and opened it for the oncoming owl. It flew into the room, dropped a letter on his desk, and quickly flew off again.

Draco lifted the letter off of his desk and smirked at the scrunched writing; it was from his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape.

Mr. Malfoy,

I received an owl from your father telling me of your betrothal to Miss Zabini. I offer my congratulations.

See you on September 1 for your final year at Hogwarts.

Severus Snape

Head of Slytherin House and Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts

Draco placed the letter back into the envelope and let it drop back onto his desk. He opened a drawer to his left and withdrew a black granite box encrusted with a jeweled version of the Malfoy family crest. He opened the box, which held a stack of letters, with a tap of his wand and added his letters from Blaise and Professor Snape to it. He then closed the box and placed it back in the drawer. Then, with a turn, he marched out of his room and headed down to the dining room for breakfast.

A tiny elf greeted him at the door. "Master Draco, just in time sir," it said, "Breakfast is nearly ready."

"Thank you Rookin," Draco said as a chair moved itself out for him and he sat down, "What are we having?"

Rookin climbed onto a stool and poured some pumpkin juice into Draco's goblet. "Rookin has ordered bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, biscuits with butter and jam, and croissants sir."

Draco smiled. "Excellent. I hope there's plenty," he said, "I'm starving."

"Not to worry Master Draco sir. Rookin would never let you go hungry sir!"

"I've no doubt about that," Draco said kindly, taking a huge gulp of his pumpkin juice, "You're always popping in on me asking if I need any food or something to drink."

"Rookin worries that Master Draco is too thin, sir," the elf said, concern filling his voice.

Draco patted the elf on the head kindly. "Is there anything special happening today?" he asked as breakfast appeared on his plate.

"You is to attend the Coming of Age party for Mistress and Master Zabini at the Zabini Mansion," Rookin croaked, pulling an invitation out of his grubby clothes-like garb, "This arrived just moments before you came down."

Draco took the invitation and opened it.

_Pietro and Marjorie Zabini request your presence:_

_This evening at Six O'clock PM for a party_

_In honor of_

_Blaise Dominic and Hermione Jean's Seventeenth Birthday_

Draco read over the invitation once more and sighed. _This is just great,_ he thought, _not only am I gonna have to deal with every seventh year Slytherin, but I'm probably gonna have to deal with all of Hermione's friends too… just great._

* * *

Marjorie Zabini smiled to herself as she sent off the final invitation for the party that night. She then let out a pleased sigh and strummed her fingers lightly on the desk in front of her. "And what are you so pleased about, my dear?"

Marjorie looked up and gave her husband a bright smile. "Everything's going so beautifully, darling," she cooed, "Hermione is back where she belongs, she and Draco are going to be married as we planned… I can only hope that Hermione will come to love us as she does the Muggles who raised her."

Pietro smiled sweetly at his wife and kissed the top of her head. "Give her time, my love, I am sure that she will come around," he said, "All we can do for now is show her our love and allow her to make her own decisions."

A sudden look of worry came over Marjorie's face. "Pietro, are you sure it was wise of us to take Hermione from the safety of her Muggle parents?"

"Marjorie, Hermione is a gifted witch; I have seen her abilities first hand," Pietro told her, speaking comfortingly, "I have no doubt that she will be able to handle herself if the Dark Lord ever finds out who she truly is, but we could not keep her hidden forever; she has to be prepared to fulfill her destiny."

"But she's so young," Marjorie exclaimed.

"Young, but capable; you forget, she is the top of her class," Pietro said with a smile.

Marjorie's worried expression lessened at her husband's words. "Yes, and we can protect her as best we can," she stated.

"Yes," Pietro agreed, "Now come, let us not think such sad thoughts today; today is a day of celebration. Did you take Blaise's suggestion about the invitations?"

Marjorie smiled and nodded. "Yes, I just sent it to them. Oh, Pietro, I do hope they'll come."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Only the plot and few original characters are mine...

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione's eyes snapped open as a knock sounded at her door. It took her a moment to realize why her surroundings didn't seem familiar to her. As her mind cleared of the fog of sleep that it was in, she called out, "Come in."

Both doors swung open and Blaise burst into her room. "I can't believe this; it's our birthday and you're still in bed at noon?"

Hermione sat up and attempted to tame the wild mass of hair on top of her head. "It isn't noon, Blaise," she said, looking at the clock, "It's barely seven o'clock."

"That's late in this house," Blaise told her with a chuckle.

"Are you always this cheery in the morning?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Blaise nodded as he ruffled his sleep worn hair. "Sorry. I've always been a morning person I suppose," he said, placing a small parcel on her bed next to her, "Happy Birthday!"

Hermione smiled sweetly at him and climbed off the bed. She walked over to the lavish desk and pulled a package out of a drawer. She held the package out for Blaise as she climbed back onto the bed. "Happy Birthday, Blaise," she said, "I didn't really have any time to actually buy you a present so I um… ordered this by owl post last night before I went to bed. It arrived a couple of hours ago."

Blaise shrugged. "There's no need to explain. I wouldn't have cared if you didn't get me anything," he said gently, taking the package from her.

"Oh, honestly, what kind of sister would I be if I didn't give my twin brother something for his birthday?"

"One who'd just found out yesterday she even had a brother," Blaise said with a smirk as he opened his present.

Hermione gave him a small as she realized that his statement had been true, but she had never been one that had ignored a family member's birthday, no matter how new that family member might be to her. Hermione's mouth dropped open as she opened her own present. "Oh, Blaise it's wonderful!" she exclaimed softly, lifting a beautiful box away from the brown paper.

"I figured you might like it," Blaise said, turning a bit pink, "You can keep whatever you want in there; jewelry, letters, personal trinkets…"

Hermione fingered the black granite box encrusted with a jeweled lion, much like the lion of Gryffindor. "It's absolutely beautiful, thank you," she said, glancing at him questioningly, "Do you like your present?"

Blaise grinned happily as he began flipping through the book she had given him entitled 'Magical Mysteries: A Look at the Unsolved Crimes through the Years'. "Yeah, I do. I love reading," he said, glancing up at her, "Mysteries are my favorite."

"Really? I didn't know."

His handsome face saddened a bit. "Well, you wouldn't would you?" he said quietly, "We're really only just now getting to know each other, and soon we'll both be married and probably won't have time for each other."

Hermione placed her hand on his knee. "Blaise, you're my brother, I'll always have time for you," she told him.

Blaise smirked. "Nah, you'll be too busy doing your homework and hanging out with your Gryffindor friends to have time for me," he said softly.

Hermione's heart went out to him as she noticed the slightly sad look in his cobalt eyes. She wasn't exactly sure of what it was, but she felt a connection with him that made it easier for her to talk to him than she had thought she'd be able to. _Probably the whole "twin" thing,_ she thought.

She cleared her throat. "Blaise, I promise you that I will always have time for you, no matter what," she said, "I want us to spend time together and get to know each other."

"Me too," he replied, smiling, "So, do you think the Head's _bedrooms_ will change to _bedroom_ once you and Draco are married?"

"I assume so, but I'm not completely sure. Why?"

"Well you can't very well shag in separate bedrooms now can you?"

A look of slight horror spread across her face. "I… I didn't even think of that."

"You make it sound like a completely horrible thing," Blaise said with a laugh, "It's a perfectly natural thing and pretty fun, from what I've heard."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Like you don't already know what shagging is like," she said playfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blaise asked with a small laugh.

"Oh come on, all the pretty girls at school drool over you and Draco," she said, somewhat bitterly. "I'm sure the two of you could've had any number of them if you'd wanted to."

"We're not womanizers Hermione," Blaise stated softly, "No matter how much of an arse we seem to be."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, Blaise," she said, "I just meant that, had you wanted to, you probably could have bedded any girl at school."

He looked at her uncertainly. "You really think so?"

Hermione smiled. "I know so."

"Even the Weasley girl?"

Hermione laughed. "I think Ron would have your skin if you even tried," she said, "Harry too for that matter. I didn't know you thought of her that way."

"Well, she's a pretty girl, but not really my type."

"I see, so what is your type?"

"I'm particularly fond of blondes."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why is it that the majority of the human male species are attracted to blondes? Why not red-heads or brunettes?"

"Don't ask me," Blaise said with a laugh.

Blaise's attention was then drawn to the window. "Oh look, you've got mail coming!" he said, running over to one of the windows and throwing it open.

"I've got mail?"

Four owls swooped into the room and dropped notes and packages onto her bed in front of her. "How do all of these owls suddenly know where I am?" she asked in amazement.

"How do they know where anyone is?" Blaise asked, "It's one of life's magical mysteries."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose so," she said, reaching out and picking up the note and package on top. She ripped open the note.

Hermione,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Can't wait to see you tonight!

Much love,

Ginny

Hermione looked at the second line curiously. "Tonight? What's happening tonight?" she asked Blaise.

Blaise looked shocked. "Blimey Hermione! Didn't Mum and Dad tell you anything?" he asked, "There's a party for us here tonight."

"And my friends have been invited?"

"Well you didn't think it would just be my friends did you?" he asked, "Mum and Dad wouldn't dream of you being unhappy on your birthday."

Hermione smiled. She was pleased to know that her friends would be celebrating her seventeenth birthday with her. She then tore open the small parcel. Wrapped in the brown paper was a palm-sized compact mirror with her initials engraved into the back of it.

After examining the mirror for a few moments, she set it next to the granite box Blaise had given her and reached for the next note and parcel. This one was from Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione darling,

Happy seventeenth! Seems like only yesterday you were starting your first year at Hogwarts with Ron and Harry. My, how time flies!

Arthur says hello and Happy Birthday. We've all received an invitation to your party tonight so we'll see you then!

With love,

Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny Weasley

Hermione opened the lumpy parcel and smiled warmly as she lifted a neatly, hand-made sweater with a lion stitched into it. She quickly put it on and looked up at Blaise, who was chuckling softly. "What?" she asked.

"Does Molly Weasley always send home-made sweaters?"

Her honey brown eyes narrowed a bit at her brother. "Don't poke fun, Blaise! Mrs. Weasley's been like a mother to me over the times I've stayed at the Burrow and I won't have you being mean about her!" she said, "She's a lovely woman with a kind heart, wonderful skills in magic and…"

Blaise ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude," he interrupted, "I was only chuckling because I got one too."

"You did?" Blaise nodded as Hermione picked up her next note and parcel, "Well, I hope you'll wear it. They're really comfortable."

Hermione,

Happy Birthday! Hope you like your present…

See you tonight…

Harry

She lifted a lovely book about owls out of the wrapping and chuckled. "He must have known I'd need a bit of knowledge on owls," she said softly.

"And that you love reading," Blaise teased.

"Well if he didn't know that after six years, he'd be quite a dunce," she said lightly, setting the book with her other presents.

The next note was written in a sloppy manner. Hermione smiled as she recognized the writing of the beloved grounds keeper of Hogwarts, Hagrid.

Hermione,

Happy birthday! Hope you like yer present. Made it meself. Harry told me yer news… Blimey, engaged to Malfoy… Don't know what to make o' all that. Guess congradulations are in order…

See you when you get to Hogwarts…

Hagrid

Hermione grimaced slightly as she opened Hagrid's present, lifting out a large iced cupcake. Not being one that was a fan of Hagrid's cooking, or baking; she set the cupcake aside and made a mental note to toss it away. Picking up the second to last note and parcel, she ripped open the note.

Hermione,

Happy Birthday…

Ron

The package Ron had sent contained sweets from Honeydukes. She popped a piece of candy into her mouth and picked up the final note and package.

Hermione,

Seems strange, me using your actual name instead of calling you "Granger", doesn't it? Strange as it may be, I like it. I never understood how pretty your name was until I actually said it a few times.

Yesterday must have been a whirlwind for you; finding out your true identity and that you're betrothed to a "foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach" and all. I hope today goes better for you, it being your birthday and all.

I honestly didn't know what to get you for your birthday so I hope this small token will suffice. I would also like to request that you accompany me to dinner in Hogsmeade (since you're of age now, we can Apparate there) on Saturday.

I feel it necessary for us to get to know each other a bit, at least, before school starts. I will understand if you'd prefer to spend the time we have before school getting to know Blaise and your parents. Please, however, keep my request in consideration. Happy Birthday…

Cordially,

Draco

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she finished reading the letter. She had never known that Draco Malfoy could be so kind, or funny. The reference to the words she had spat at him in their third year before she had punched him had caused her to laugh. She set his letter aside and picked up the heavy parcel. As the wrapping was torn away, Hermione's eyes widened.

A very old looking book with curvy, old fashioned writing on the cover stared up at her from the bed. There was certainly nothing "small" about this book. From the look of the cover and the leather binding, it was a very old, and possibly rare, spell book.

She ran her fingers over the cover of the book delicately, staring at the gold writing in awe. It was the most wonderful gift she had ever received. She couldn't believe that it was Draco that had given it to her. A soft whistle escaped Blaise's lips and Hermione tore her eyes away from the book to look at him.

"Wow, Draco must like you more than I thought," he said, "He really went all out, getting you a book like _that_."

"It looks extremely rare," Hermione stated, examining the old book a little more carefully, "What kind of spell book is it exactly?"

"I don't know," Blaise said with a shrug as he opened the book Hermione had given him and flipped through the pages, "Knowing Draco, he searched for the oldest and rarest spell book he knows about and bought it for you."

Hermione nodded with confusion spread across her features. She then remembered something Blaise had said just moments before. "Dr… Draco likes me?" she asked, looking at her brother questioningly.

Blaise cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair as he stood up. "We'll be expected down at breakfast in a bit," he told her, glancing at the clock on her fireplace mantle, "Dad likes to see freshly showered 'children' in the mornings."

"Blaise, you didn't answer my question."

Blaise looked extremely uncomfortable under her questioning stare. _This must be what Potter and Weasley feel like when they try to lie to her,_ he thought, "I uh… uh…"

"Blaise!"

"It's not really my place to say. Draco never actually _told_ me whether or not he likes you," he pleaded when she shot him a look of prying curiosity, "All I can tell you is what I _think_."

"Well then, what do you think?"

"I… I think he has feelings for you," he told her, "Feelings that he might not really know about."

"You really think so?"

"It's what I gather from having been friends with him for practically my whole life."

Hermione nodded blankly as she placed the book with her other presents. Could it be true? Could Draco Malfoy really, possibly, have feelings for her, Hermione Granger?… _Zabini._ She then peeled off the sweater Mrs. Weasley had made her, climbed off the bed and headed to her bathroom. She looked in the waterfall mirror and screamed.

Blaise ran into the bathroom, worry written all over his face. "Wha…?" he began to ask, but his words got stuck in his throat. Standing in before him was a girl he didn't recognize, yet she was a girl who he would know anywhere. Gone was the mousy haired bookworm he had grown to hate and in her place stood the raven-haired sister he had always loved.

He watched in awe as her fairly small frame shot up a few inches, thinning to reveal a body that was more toned. Her modest sleep shorts and tank top shrank in length and tightened around her chest and butt slightly, allowing for a perfect view of part of her tanned midriff. He couldn't believe the difference in her already.

The hair she was now sporting straightened down her back, not a single wave to be seen in its silky mass, and was jet black in color. Light freckles appeared across the bridge of her nose, accenting her skin tone nicely. Finally, he noticed a pair of bright, emerald green eyes, highlighted by a set of thick, dark eyelashes.

Hermione, open mouthed and shocked, moved closer to the mirror. The thing that held her attention the most was her eyes, they were the most brilliant green she had ever seen. _They'd put Harry's to shame,_ she thought, gently touching her cheek. She was surprised by its softness and the smoothness of it.

Blaise inched toward her. He was just as shocked as she was. Although he had known Hermione's appearance would change, he'd had no idea just how much. Granted, the only major changes were her height, hair color, and eye color. He placed his hand gently on his sister's shoulder and turned her to face him.

He examined her face. Thin cheeks, full lips, freckled nose, there was no doubt about it; she was his twin. Their cheekbones and jaw structure were like that of their father, but the rest of their facial features were their mother through and through. He smiled brightly at her. "Well it's nice to see you've got my good looks," he teased.

Hermione hit him on the shoulder and gave him a playfully angry look. "If I've got anyone's good looks, its Mrs. Zabini's, I think," she retorted, turning back to the mirror and looking at her reflection again.

Blaise grinned widely. "Hey, we can both do magic at home now!" he said excitedly. "I'm gonna go tell Mum that the Glamour's worn off," and with that, he disappeared with a loud pop. Hermione jumped a bit at the sound and then giggled.

Remembering what she had actually walked into the bathroom for, she stripped her pajamas off and stepped down into the bathtub. She turned on the water and lowered the sheer green curtain. Once the curtain touched the edge of the large tub, the water suddenly began raining down on her from a puffy cloud.

As the warm water ran over her new body, she reveled in the feel of her new figure. She allowed her fingers to run along her tight stomach and buttocks. It seemed strange to feel the toned muscles beneath her skin whereas before, there had been just a slight pudge. _A girl could definitely get used to this,_ she thought, smiling to herself.

After quickly showering, Hermione toweled herself off and stepped up onto the cool floor. She wrapped the soft towel around her body and walked over to the waterfall mirror. She turned herself around to get a look at the birthmark she knew would be there.

Her green eyes fell to her left shoulder where, sure enough, a small crescent shaped mark was etched into her skin. In all actuality, it looked more like a freckle with the light coloring of it, but it was much larger. She made a mental note to make sure she kept her birthmark covered, just in case there were any Death Eaters that had listened at the door when the Prophecy had been revealed to her father. With a small sigh, Hermione turned herself back around and began setting to work on getting dressed and fixing her hair.

About ten minutes later, Hermione was staring at her reflection trying to figure out what to do with her hair. She wasn't used to being able to manage her hair easily so she was having quite an issue. Just then, a loud pop sounded a few feet behind her.

Hermione spun around with her hand to her heart. Smiling up at her with watery eyes was Gripa. "Sorry Mistress, Gripa didn't mean to scare you Miss," she squeaked, her voice filled with tears.

Hermione smiled kindly and knelt down close to the tiny elf. "It's quite alright Gripa," she said, "I'm just not used to apparation just yet."

Gripa wiped her large blue eyes and sniffled. "Gripa is sorry," she said.

"It's nothing to be sorry for," Hermione told her gently, rubbing her tiny head softly.

"Gripa would be ever so pleased if Miss if she could help," she said.

Hermione stood and shook her head. "Thank you, Gripa but that won't be necessary," she said sweetly, "I'll manage just as I always have."

Gripa hung her head slightly. "Does Miss not like Gripa?" she questioned.

"No, Gripa, it's nothing like that. I've grown up doing things on my own and I don't believe in slavery of any sort," she said.

"Gripa is not a slave, Miss; Gripa is a good elf and is treated like family."

"Be that as it may, I don't think I can ask you to do things for me," Hermione told her.

Gripa bowed low without another word and popped out of the room. Hermione felt bad about hurting her feelings, but she couldn't go against everything that she had fought for over the past few years. That was just not how she had been raised so, with a heavy sigh, Hermione turned back to her mirror and set about fixing her hair into a braid.

About five minutes later, Hermione was looking at her reflection in mild approval. She honestly couldn't complain about her appearance today considering she felt more like herself than ever. Granted, she was still uncertain of exactly who she was, but there was at least one missing piece of the puzzle put in place. As that thought occurred to her, she nodded and began making her way to the dining room for breakfast.

As she padded down the carpeted stairs, her thoughts began to wander to the letter that had accompanied Draco's lovely gift. The words he had written had been so unlike the Draco she'd known for the past several years. Although it was a nice change to the nasty words he had always spat at her, it was unexpected and confusing. _Maybe there's a heart deep down in that pale body of his,_ she thought, quickly angering at her insult, _Of course he has a heart you stupid girl. You've always known deep down that he's not a bad guy!_

In truth, she hadn't known he wasn't a bad guy, she had secretly hoped it but his actions toward her and her friends had ripped that hope from her. Every foul word that had escaped his lips over the years had torn at every shred of hope she had had of his being a kind person. However, every action and word he had spoke since the previous evening caused that hope to flicker once again.


End file.
